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THE 


WESTERN   WOELD; 


OR, 


TRAVELS  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES 


IN  1846-47: 


EXHIBITING  THEM  IN  THEIR  LATEST  DEVELOPMENT, 
SOCIAL,  POLITICAL,  AND  INDUSTRIAL; 


INCLUDINd  A.  CHAPTER  OW 


CALIFORNIA. 


BY    ALEX.    MACKAY,  ESQ., 

or  THE  MIDDLE  TEMPLE,  BARRISTER  AT  I.AW, 


IN  TWO  VOLUMES. 
VOL.  I. 


FROM  THE  SECOND  LONDON  EDITION. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

LEA   &,    BLANCHARD. 
1849. 


WM.  S.  YOUNG,  PRINTER. 


9/7.3  d 


TO 

RICHARD   COBDEN,  ESQ.,  M.P., 

IS  EESPECTFULLY  DEDICATED 

BY 

THE   AUTHOR. 


CONTENTS. 


PAfJE 

Introduction vii 

Chapter  i. 
A  Winter  Passage  of  the  Atlantic 13 

Chapter  ii. 
The  Capital  of  New  England 22 

Chapter  hi. 
A  Night  between  Boston  and  New  York 30 

Chapter  iv. 
New  York,  its  Situation  and  Environs 4  0 

Chapter  v. 
Commerce  and  Commercial  Policy  of  the  United  States    ....    68 

Chapter  vi. 
From  New  York  to  Philadelphia 83 

Chapter  vii. 
Philadelphia     .     .     .     .     ^ 88 

Chapter  viii. 
A  Journey  from  Philadelphia  to  Baltimore  and  Washington   ...    97 

Chapter  ix. 

The  Capital  and  the  Capitol 103 

1* 


VI  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Chapter  x. 
Life  in  Washington 114 

Chapter  xi. 
General  View  of  American  Society ;     .     .       124 

Chapter  xii. 
Political  Aspect  of  the  United  States 145 

Chapter  xiii. 
The  Federal  Legislature 177 

Chapter  xiv. 
The  Judiciary  System  of  the  United  States 197 

Chapter  xv. 
Party,  Party-Spirit,  Organization,  and  Tactics 211 

Chapter  xvi. 
The  East  and  the  West 234 

j  Chapter  xvn. 

Virginia 045 


y. 


Chapter  xvhi. 
Slavery, — in  its  Political  Aspect 263 


\J  Chapter  xix. 

Slavery,  in  its  Social,  INloral,  and  Economical  Aspect  ....        281 

Chapter  xx. 
From  Richmond  to  Charleston 094 


INTRODUCTION. 


It  is  now  some  time  since  a  work  has  appeared  professing  to  give 
to  the  Enghsh  public,  a  general  account  of  the  social,  political  and 
material  condition  of  the  United  States.  At  the  same  time,  so  rapid 
is  their  development,  and  so  great  are  the  changes  which,  in  every 
national  point  of  view,  ihey  are  constantly  exhibiting,  that  the  pro- 
gress made  by  them  each  year  would  almost  furnish  sufficient  male- 
rial  for  a  new  work  respecting  them. 

That  which  I  now  venture  to  offer  to  the  reader  is  not,  as  too 
many  such  works  have  been,  the  result  of  a  hurried  visit  to  tlie 
American  republic.  Most  of  those  who  have  written  upon  America, 
have  done  so  after  a  few  months'  sojourn  in  the  country;  but  there- 
is  no  country  in  the  world  less  likely  to  be  properly  understood  on 
so  brief  an  acquaintance  with  it.  Where  populations  are  dense,  and 
confined  within  limited  areas,  national  life  may  be  soon  studied  and 
appreciated.  But  when  a  country  is  almost  continental  in  its  dimen- 
sions, and  its  inhabitants  are  yet  comparatively  few,  and  in  most 
cases  separated  widely  from  each  other,  it  takes  a  much  longer  time, 
if  not  to  understand  national  polity,  at  least  to  gain  a  thorough  in- 
sight into  national  habits,  pursuits,  and  peculiarities;  in  short,  into 
every  thing  which  enters  into  the  social  life  of  a  people.  By  travel- 
ling a  man  may  thoroughly  acquaint  himself  with  the  physical  aspect 
of  a  country;  but  he  must  do  more  than  travel  over  its  surface  to 
understand  it  aright,  in  that  which  constitutes  its  most  interesting, 
its  moral,  aspect.  A  people,  before  they  can  be  fairly  portrayed, 
must  be  studied,  not  simply  looked  at.  It  is  impossible  thoroughly 
to  study  the  Americans  during  a  six  months'  tour  in  America.  A 
man  who  professes  to  have  traversed  the  Union  in  that  time,  must 
have  been  almost  constantly  on  the  high-way,  the  railway,  or  ihe 
steamer.  He  has  thus  been  brought  in  contact  with  American  life 
but  in  one  of  its  phases,  and  for  reasons  mentioned  in  the  body  of 
the  work,  is  incompetent  to  form  a  correct  judgment  of  society  in 
America,  in  its  proper  acceptation.  Besides,  he  is  constantly  view- 
ing it  from  its  least  favourable  side,  a  consideration  which  accounts 


Vlll  INTRODUCTION. 

for  the  mnny  erroneous  delineations  of  it  which  have,  in  some  cases 
unwillingly,  been  palmed  ofl'  upon  tiie  English  public  as  correct 
moral  portraits  of  our  republican  kindred.  To  comprehend  the 
s«K'ial  life  of  America,  tlie  working  of  its  political  institutions,  and 
the  bearing  of  its  polity  upon  its  moral  development,  it  is  absolutely 
essential  that  a  man  should  step  aside  from  the  hotel,  the  railway 
and  the  steamer,  and  live  with  the  people,  instead  of  living,  as  the 
mere  traveller  does,  beside  them.  This  I  have  done;  having  spent 
some  years  in  the  country  before  the  journey  described  in  the  work, 
was  undertaken.  During  that  period  I  had  every  opportunity  of 
studying-  the  American  character  in  all  its  national,  and  most  of  its 
individual  manifestations;  of  acquainting  myself  with  the  different 
phases  of  society,  and  with  the  manners  and  the  domestic  habits  of 
the  people;  and  of  observing  the  working  of  their  complicated 
political  machine,  from  the  administration  of  federal  affairs,  to  the 
supervision  of  those  of  a  township — from  the  election  of  a  Presi- 
dent to  that  of  a  Pound-keeper.  My  opportunities  of  observation 
1  owe  almost  entirely  to  the  courtesy  and  unreserve  with  which  I 
was  every  where  received  and  treated.  Whether  I  have  improved 
them  or  not  the  reader  must  judge  for  himself.  The  journey  upon 
which  the  whole  work  is  made  to  turn,  was  commenced  in  1846, 
when  I  visited  America  for  the  second  time,  residino-  for  several 
months  at  Washington,  during  a  very  critical  period  in  our  inter- 
national affairs,  and  enjoying  throughout  the  honour  and  advantage 
of  a  familiar  intercourse  with  most  of  the  chiefs  of  both  Houses  of 
Congress,  and  with  many  intimately  connected  with  the  executive 
government.  So  far  as  the  work  touches  upon  the  political  de- 
velopment and  the  material  progress  of  the  country,  it  deals  widi 
its  subjects  down  to  the  latest  period;  whilst  much  of  that  part  of 
it  which  treats  of  die  social  life  of  the  Union,  is  the  result  of  former 
observation,  confirmed  by  subsequent  inspection.  I  trust  that  tliis 
will  suflice  to  show  that  I  have  had  ample  opportunity  of  studying 
the  people  whom  1  endeavour  to  delineate,  and  of  observing  the 
country  which  I  attempt  to  describe.  If  I  fail  of  doing  either,  it 
will  not  be  from  the  want  of  materials,  but  from  inability  to  turn 
them  to  account. 

'J'he  great  object  of  the  work  is  more  to  instruct  than  to  amuse. 
But  as  the  press  is  now  so  prolific  in  matter  claiming  the  reader's 
attention,  it  is  essential —especially  in  the  case  of  one  hitherto  but 
little  known  in  the  w^alks  of  literature — that  he  should  endeavour 
to  amuse  in  order  to  instruct.  'J'hey  are  but  few  from  whom  the 
j)ublic  will  now  accept  that  which  is  merely  didactic.  The  judg- 
ment must  now  a-days  be  reached,  more  or  less,  through  the  imagi- 
nation. It  is  on  this  account  that  although  my  main  object  is  to 
l)r('S(;iit  the  reader  with  a  faithful  account  of  the  political  system, 
the    social   life,  and   the   material    progress  of  the    Union,   I   have 


INTRODUCTION.  IX 

llirown  the  whole  into  the  form  of  a  book  of  Irnvels,  niiiicrling  the 
instructive  with  that  whioh  is  lio^ht,  sketchv,  and  incidental. 

'J'he  plan  of  the  work  is  a  simple  one.  I  commence  my  journey 
at  Boston,  and  after  traversing  the  sea-board  States,  passing-  thronoh 
those  of  the  South  and  South-west,  ascendin;^  the  valley  of  the 
Mississippi,  proceeding"  along  that  of  the  Ohio  to  Western  Penn- 
sylvania, passing  thence  through  Western  New  York  by  the  valley 
of  the  Genesee  to  the  Great  Lakes,  descending  the  St.  Lawrence 
by  the  rapids,  and  sailing  up  Lake  Champlain,  and  down  the  Hud- 
son to  New  York,  make  my  way  once  more  to  Boston,  termina- 
ting my  tour,  after  having  thus  made  the  circuit  of  the  Union,  at 
the  point  at  which  it  commenced.  Had  I  confined  myself  simply 
to  what  I  saw  and  encountered  by  the  way,  such  a  round,  embracing 
such  a  variety  of  scenes,  and  so  many  latitudes  and  longitudes 
within  its  circumference,  would  have  provided  me  with  ample 
material  for  an  interesting  descriptive  work.  But  I  have  not  so 
confined  myself,  but  make  the  description  of  my  peregrinations 
through  the  country  subservient  to  M'hat  I  conceive  to  be  a  higher 
object  than  the  mere  painting  of  scenery  and  the  relation  of  inci- 
dents by  the  way.  My  journey  is  but  the  frame  in  which  I  have 
as  it  were  encased  the  more  solid  parts  of  the  work.  With  these 
I  never  deal  until  circumstances  either  suggest  them,  or  force  them 
upon  my  attention.  I  identify  each  subject  with  some  incident  or 
locality,  my  connexion  with,  or  sojourn  in,  which  has  necessarily 
brought  me  in  contact  with  it. 

The  first  four  chapters  are  exclusively  of  a  descriptive  character, 
and  so  far  the  work  in  its  plan  exhibits  no  feature  to  distinguish  it 
from  the  bulk  of  books  of  travels.  In  chapter  IV.  I  describe  the 
city  of  New  York,  but  before  proceeding  further  on  my  way,  I 
take  advantage  of  my  stay  at  the  commercial  emporium  of  the  con- 
tinent to  give  some  account,  to  which  chapter  V.  is  devoted,  of  the 
commerce  and  commercial  policy  of  the  United  States.  In  this  I 
not  only  describe  the  rapid  development  of  American  commerce, 
but  also  explain  at  length  the  relative  positions  of  parties  in  Ame- 
rica in  reference  to  the  great  economical  questions  by  which  the 
Union  is  agitated.  It  will  be  seen  that  the  locality  naturally  sug- 
gests the  subject.  'J'he  four  chapters  which  follow,  comprising  my 
journey  to  Philadelphia,  Baltimore  and  Washington,  are  also  exclu- 
sively devoted  to  description  and  incident.  Having  arrived  at 
Washington,  and  being  then  on  the  Federal  stage,  the  best  position 
from  which  to  survey  the  Union  in  connexion  with  every  thing 
that  concerns  it  in  its  aggregate,  I  take  up  general  subjects,  applica- 
ble not  to  a  particular  locality,  but  to  the  whole  Confederacy.  In 
this  category,  indeed,  is  that  of  commerce,  but  my  reasons  for  deal- 
ing with  it  elsewhere  than  at  Washington  are  obvious.  My  first 
object  in  treating  of  homogeneous  subjects,  is  to  portray  the  social 


X  INTRODUCTION. 

life  of  America,  ns  seen  from  a  point  wliich  commands,  more  or 
loss,  a  view  of  it  in  its  affffreiratc  manifestation.  Before  doinff  this, 
however,  I  devote  a  chapter  lo  a  description  of  the  peculiar  social 
development  which  Washington  presents,  the  society  of  the  capital 
itself  diflering'  in  many  of  its  essential  features,  for  reasons  ex- 
plained, from  society  in  its  general  and  national  aspect.  Having 
depicted  life  at  Washington,  I  take,  in  the  chapter  which  follows, 
a  general  view  of  American  society.  That  which  will  next  engage 
the  reader's  attention  is  the  political  aspect  of  the  United  States,  in 
describing  which  the  character  of  the  government  is  carefully  con- 
sidered, its  complex  machinery  explained,  and  the  line  separating 
federal  from  local  jurisdiction  traced  as  broadly  as  possible.  In 
tliis  part  of  the  work  I  also  examine  into  the  peculiarity  of  the 
Federal  system  as  developed  in  America,  the  identification  of  the 
national  system  with  it,  and  the  strength  which  this  gives  to  the 
political  fabric — the  cost  of  government  in  the  United  States,  and 
the  essential  difference  which  exists  between  the  British  and  Ame- 
rican constitutions.  After  this  follows  a  chapter  descriptive  of  the 
Federal  legislature,  not  only  portraying  both  Houses  in  session, 
but  also  explaining  their  respective  modes  of  conducting  the  public 
business.  The  next  chapter  describes  the  judiciary  system  of  the 
United  States,  in  its  federal  and  local  capacities.  The  following 
chapter  opens  with  an  account  of  party,  its  organization  and  its 
evolutions  in  America,  after  which  follows  a  description  of  the 
artificial  means  by  which  the  sea-board  States  and  the  States  on 
the  Mississippi  have  been  bound  together  in  bonds  of  indissoluble 
imion  by  the  complete  identification  of  their  interests.  I  then 
leave  Washington  for  Virginia;  and  whilst  in  the  "Slave  breeding 
State,"  take  up  the  subject  of  Slavery;  treating  it  both  in  its  politi- 
cal, and  in  its  social,  moral  and  economical  aspects.  Two  chap- 
ters follow  of  an  exclusively  descriptive  character;  which  bring 
me,  on  my  way  south,  to  the  end  of  my  journey  by  railway.  It  is 
whilst  being  jolted  over  an  American  hiofjiway,  in  a  lumbering  and 
inconvenient  stage,  that  I  take  up  the  subject  of  railways  in  Ame- 
rica, in  their  national  light,  and  a-propos  to  railways,  also  the  tele- 
graphic system  of  the  Union.  Two  chapters  of  a  descriptive  na- 
ture again  follow;  after  which,  on  reaching  the  State  of  Mississippi, 
while  ascending  the  Mississippi  Kiver,  I  enter  at  length  into  the 
wliole  question  of  Repudiation.  The  next  step  in  my  progress 
brings  me  to  St.  Louis;  and  before  leaving  the  great  valley,  I  take, 
as  it  were,  a  bird's-eye  view  of  the  agriculture  and  agricultural  in- 
terest of  the  United  States.  Ascending  the  Ohio  to  Pittsburg  in 
AVestern  Pennsylvania,  I  find  myself  in  the  midst  of  the  mining 
districts,  which  suggests  to  me  the  subject  of  the  minerals  and 
mining  interest  of  the  Union.  I  then  pass  through  Western  New 
York  to  Lake   Ontario,  and   by  the   Falls  of  Niagara   to   Buffalo. 


INTRODUCTION.  XI 

Before  leaving  Buffalo,  which  is  at  the  western  extremity  of  the 
greatest  of  all  the  American  canals,  I  take  occasion  to  glance  at  the 
artificial  irrio^ation  of  the  United  States;  in  connexion  with  which 
I  endeavour  to  explain  the  rivalry  which  exists  between  Canada 
and  New  York,  for  the  carrvinor  trade  of  the  North-west,  and  how 
far  the  Navigation  Jiaws,  in  their  operation  upon  the  St.  Lawrence, 
injuriously  affect  our  own  Province,  in  competing  with  its  rival. 
My  route  then  leads  me  through  central  and  northern  New  York 
to  the  St.  Lawrence,  which  I  descend  to  Montreal ;  passing  by  the 
"  Thousand  Islands,''  and  shooting  the  rapids  on  my  way.  I  then 
ascend  Lake  Champlain,  proceed  overland  to  Saratoga  and  Albany, 
and  descend  the  Hudson  to  West  Point,  the  military  academy  of 
the  United  States ;  during  my  brief  stay  at  which  I  take  a  rapid 
glance  at  the  military  spirit  and  the  military  establishments  of 
America.  Proceeding  to  New  York,  my  next  point  is  New  Haven, 
the  seat  of  the  principal  university  in  the  Union,  and,  whilst  visit- 
ing it,  the  subject  of  literature  and  education  in  the  United  States 
engages  my  attention.  As  kindred  to,  if  not  connected  with  that 
subject,  the  next  chapter  treats  of  religion  in  America.  From  New 
Haven  I  proceed  to  Lowell,  the  infant  Manchester  of  the  Union ; 
and  from  it,  as  a  favourable  point  of  view,  present  the  reader  with 
a  conp-cToeil  of  the  manufactures  and  manufacturing  interests  of 
America.  Then  follow  two  chapters  which  conclude  the  work, 
the  one  taking  a  brief  survey  of  American  character,  and  the  phy- 
sical condition  of  society  in  America;  and  the  other  venturing  upon 
a  peep  into  the  future.  The  reader  will  thus  see  that  there  are 
few  subjects  connected  with  either  the  national  or  the  individual 
life  of  the  people  left  untouched.  Not  only  are  the  more  solid 
portions  of  the  work  thus  interspersed  with  sketchy  and  amusing 
matter,  but  they  are  prepared  so  as  to  popularize,  as  far  as  pos- 
sible, the  subjects  of  which  they  treat;  my  great  object  being,  in 
dealing  with  the  driest  topics,  not  only  to  inform  the  judgment,  but 
also  to  impress  upon  the  imagination. 

Having  thus  explained  the  nature  and  extent  of  the  materials  for 
it  at  my  command,  the  object  of  the  w^ork,  and  the  plan  on  which  it 
is  framed,  I  shall  conclude  this  Introduction  by  briefly  adverting 
to  the  spirit  in  which  it  is  conceived.  It  has  been  too  much  the 
fashion  of  late  to  cheat  the  public  with  caricatures,  under  the  false 
pretence  of  providing  them  with  a  correct  portraiture  of  America.  , 
Where  prejudice  has  not  given  a  false  colour  to  every  thing  which  ^ 
the  tourist  has  observed,  ignorance  of  the  topics  dealt  with  has  fre- 
quently led  him  into  error  in  attempting  to  sketch  America  life.  My 
object  is,  divesting  myself  as  far  as  possible  of  every  thing  like  pre- 
judice either  one  way  or  the  other,  so  to  make  use  of  the  materials 
at  my  command,  as  to  present  to  the  reader  a  faithful  and  unbiassed 
account  of  that  great  country  which  is,  after  all,  the  only  rival  that 


Ml  INTRODUCTION. 

we  have  to  fear.  In  so  doing',  I  suppress  notliing  that  seems  to  mc 
to  be  really  pertinent  to  my  subject,  merely  because  it  may  clash 
with  an  English  prejudice,  at  the  same  time  that  I  am  not  deterred 
from  speaking  what  1  conceive  to  be  the  (ruth,  through  fear  of 
wounding  tlie  self-love  of  the  American,  l^ut  in  treating  of  charac- 
ter, I  have  been  careful  throughout  the  work  to  distinguish  between 
mere  individual  peculiarities  and  national  characteristics.  The  in- 
cidents which  I  describe  and  the  characters  which  I  delineate  by  the 
way,  must,  unless  they  are  particularly  adverted  to  as  illustrating 
some  phase  of  national  life,  be  taken  as  simple  occurrences  and  per- 
sonal sketches,  having  no  necessary  bearing  upon  any  thing  beyond 
themselves.  I  take  care  that  the  intention  shall  be  manifest,  when- 
ever they  are  designed  to  have  a  wider  signification. 

With  these  remarks  upon  the  materials,  object,  scope,  plan,  and 
spirit  of  a  work,  designed  as  a  correct  account  of  a  great  country, 
and  a  faithful  portraiture  of  a  great  people,  1  submit  it,  but  not  with- 
out diffidence,  to  the  candid  judgment  of  the  public. 


THE   WESTERN   WORLD; 


OE, 


TRAVELS    IN    THE    UNITED    STATES 

IN    1846-7. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A   WINTER  PASSAGE  OF  THE  ATLANTIC. 

Departure  from  Liverpool.— First  Meal  on  Board,  and  its  revelations.— Re- 
appearance of  Passengers. — Congress  of  Nations. — Characters  on  board 
and  their  different  Occupations. — A  Specimen  of  "Nature's  Own." — 
Amusements.  —  The  Smoking  Room.  —  The  Log.— A  Storm.— A  Nor'- 
easter.— A  New  Impediment.— Arrival  at  Halifax.]—  Question  of  Peace 
or  War — Arrival  at  Boston. 

It  was  not  the  brightest  of  mornings — that  of  the  4th  of  January, 
1846 — wlien  I  embarked  for  the  New  World  on  board  the  royal  mail 
steamship  Hibernia.  The  wind  was  in  the  west,  and  came  cold  and 
fitful.  The  sky,  though  not  wholly  overcast,  was  loaded  with  clouds, 
which  came  up  in  majestic  procession  before  the  breeze;  now  piled  one 
upon  the  other,  in  gorgeous  confusion — now  broken  into  fragments, 
ragged  and  straggling.  It  was  not  altogether  what  might  be  called  a 
stormy  day,  but  was  certainly  not  such  as  a  landsman  would  choose 
for  taking  to  sea. 

The  moment  of  departure  was  an  exciting  one.  The  captain, 
trumpet  in  hand,  took  his  station  on  the  larboard  paddle-box,  and 
every  man  was  ordered  to  his  post.  Almost  any  species  of  occupa- 
tion for  the  mind  is,  at  such  a  moment,  a  source  of  relief;  and  I 
sought  it  in  watching  for  the  first  revolution  of  the  wheels;  but  so 
smoothly  and  noiselessly  did  the  ponderous  engines  apply  themselves 
to  their  work,  that  it  was  not  until  I  saw  the  water  receding  in  foam 
from  behind  her,  that  I  was  aware  that  the  stately  ship  had  started 
on  her  voyage.  About  two  hours  afterwards  the  pilot  left  us.  This 
was  like  snapping  the  last  tie  which  bound  us  to  home,  and  it  was 
not  until  he  waved  us  adieu  that  we  felt  our  departure.  The  engines 
were  stopped,  to  enable  him  to  descend  into  his  little  boat,  and  when 
they  resumed  their  work,  it  was  not  to  stop  again  until  they  placed  the 

VOL.  I — 2 


14  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

noble  ship  tliat  bore  them  safely  alongside  the  quay  at  Halifax.  Night 
was  far  advanced  ere  I  weitt  below.  The  last  object  ashore,  on 
which  my  eye  rested,  was  the  light  on  Holyhead  which  was  then 
dipping  into  the  channel  astern  of  us,  When  I  got  on  deck  next 
morning,  not  a  headland  was  visible  on  any  side.  Ireland  lay  on 
our  right,  but  the  line  of  our  horizon  was  far  above  her  loftiest  peak  ; 
behind  us  was  the  spacious  entrance  to  the  Channel,  and  before  us 
lay  the  broad  Atlantic,  foaming  and  turbulent. 

I  do  not  envy  the  man  who  could  look,  for  the  first  time,  on  such 
a  scene  without  emotion.  It  must  be  confessed,  however,  that  to 
enjoy  it,  particularly  on  the  first  day  after  leaving  port,  a  strong  sto- 
mach is  as  essential  a  requisite  as  a  well-constituted  mind.  In  the 
former  qualification,  the  majority  of  my  fellow-passengers  were  de- 
plorably deficient,  nor  were  they  long  in  developing  their  defects. 

When  it  is  tolerably  rough,  the  first  meal  on  board  is  the  great 
test  of  the  seagoing  qualities  of  those  who  have  the  courage  to  sit 
down  to  it.  When  we  first  sat  down  to  dinner,  we  made  a  snug 
little  party  of  107,  of  which  number  only  two  were  ladies.  The 
soup  was  scarc(>ly  on  the  table,  when  the  gentleman  on  my  right 
grasped  his  hat  convulsively,  and  with  livid  visage  hurried  from  the 
saloon,  in  which  piece  of  significant  pantomime  he  was  soon  imita- 
ted by  several  others.  Some  for  a  while  struggled  manfully  against 
the  agony;  but  at  the  sight  of  fish,  paled  and  fled;  others  retained 
possession  of  their  self-command,  until  sauces  and  condiments  loomed 
upon  their  already  halj-jaundiced  eyes.  Despite  the  tortures  which 
they  suffered,  it  was  ludicrous  to  see  the  half-fright  with  which  some 
regarded  what  was  placed  before  them,  and  the  irresolution  with 
which  others  set  about  disposing  of  what  was  handed  them.  Some, 
who  would  not  have  trembled  at  a  shark,  quailed  before  a  piece  of 
cod-fish;  and  others  who,  if  necessary,  would  have  manfully  faced  a 
mad  bull,  whitened  at  a  sweetbread.  The  sea  makes  of  some  men 
what  conscience  is  said  to  make  of  us  all.  Before  the  third  course 
was  over,  scarcely  one-third  of  the  company  remained  at  table.  A 
lively  sea  had  made  speedy  and  sad  havoc  amongst  the  keenest  ap- 
petites; and  strong  brave  men  were  already  stretched  in  dozens  on 
iheir  backs,  puling  like  children. 

Of  those  who  braved  out  the  dinner,  scarcely  one  half  ventured  at 
tea-time  to  come  to  table;  whilst  next  morning,  at  breakfast,  1  was 
one  of  nine  only  who  sat  down  to  cofTee  and  hot  rolls.  The  rest 
had  disappeared  I  could  not  tell  whither.  And  how  deserted  now 
the  crowded  quarter-deck  of  yesterday  !  It  was  scarcely  possible  to 
avoid  the  c^iiviction  that  we  had  touched  overnight  at  some  port,  and 
landed  most  of  our  passengers.  In  the  course  of  the  afternoon  a  few 
stragglers  made  thoir  appearance,  emerging  from  the  penetralia  of 
the  vessel,  with  sunken  cheek,  pallid  countenance,  wandering  eye  and 
uncertain  step,  some  of  whom  ventured  to  climb  to  the  quarter-deck, 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 


15 


whilst  others  looked  wistfully,  first  at  tho  sky,  which  seemed  reeling 
overhead,  and  then  at  the  water,  which  was  leaping  and  tumbling 
around  them,  the  sight  of  which  soon  gave  rise  to  unmistakable 
spasms,  which  made  them  hurry  back  again  to  their  berths. 

It  was  several  days  afterwards  ere  the  original  company,  with  a 
few  exceptions,  re-assembled  at  dinner.     Every  morning  during  the 
first  week,  as  one  after  another  was  added  to  the  convalescent  list,  I 
encountered  new  faces  on  deck,  as  strange  to  me  as  if  their  owners  had 
been  taken  aboard  overnight.    It  was  curious  to  witness  how  assiduous 
they  were,  as  soon  as  they  regained  their  legs,  in  their  devotions  to 
fresh  air,  shunning  the  very  entrance  to  the  saloon,  and,  for  some 
days,  drinking  weak  tea  and  taking  highly  spiced  soups  in  an  alfresco 
fashion  on  deck.     No  sooner  had  all  re-appeared  of  whom  there  was 
any  hope,  than  I  found  that  we  had  on  board  the  materials  for  a 
very  respectable  congress  of  nations.     We  had  Englishmen,  Scotch- 
men, and  Irishmen,  on  the  passenger  list;  Americans,  Canadians, 
and  Mexicans,  Frenchmen  and  Germans,  with  a  brace  of  Russians, 
and  a  solitary  Armenian.      We  had  also  a  black  cook  on  board. 
Shem,  Ham,  and  Japhet,  were  all  represented.     It  was  pleasant  to 
observe  the  peaceable  demeanour  of  so  many  "natural  enemies"   to 
each  other.     It  almost  seemed  as  if  such  a  thing  as  national  antipathy 
had  never  found  even  a  lurking-place  in  any  of  their  bosoms.    Amongst 
such  an  assemblage,  it-  was  but  natural  to  look  for  a  great  variety  of 
habit  and  character.     But  few  read;  the  great  majority  walked  about 
all  day;  some  played  at  whist  from  morning  till  night,  others  at  back- 
gammon, and  others  again  at  chess.    There  was  a  young  Englishman 
who  passed  amongst  his  fellow-passengers  as  chess  mad.     He  con- 
slandy  talked  of  the  game  when  he  was  not  playing  it;  was  always 
playing  it  when  he  could  beat  up  an  antagonist;  and  dreamt  of  it,  as 
he  assured  me,  when  he  was  neither  talking  of  nor  playing  it.     It 
was  his  boast,  on  reaching  our  journey's  end,  that  he  had  played 
157  games  during  the  voyage,  at  the  rate  of  eight  a  day.      Most 
people  on  board  ship  disclose  their  peculiarities.     One  of  my  fellow- 
passengers  was  constandy  indulging  in  the  insane  hope,  that  some 
homeward-bound  ship  would  come  alongside  and  take  him  back  to 
Liverpool;  being  utterly  unable,  up  to  the  last  moment  of  the  voyage, 
to  explain  to  himself  what  could  have  induced  him  to  leave  England. 
Another  soon  became  notorious  for  his  unceising  complaints  of  cold 
in  his  ears,  the  cure  for  which  lay  in  "  another  cap,"  which  he  had 
in  his  trunk,  to  which  it  was  his  declared  intention  every  morning 
to  resort,  but  which  never  made  its  appearance.     Such  as  affected 
a  knowledge  of  seamanship,  were  generally  found  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  the  compass.     Some  spent  most  of  their  time  in  all  but  bo- 
dily contact  with  the  funnel,  courting  its  warmth,  and  smoking  nearly 
as  much  as  it  did.     Some  lived  on  soups,  others  entirely  on  vegeta. 
bles;  some  ate  next  to  nothing,  and  others  were  constandy  eating 


16    '  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  wine  consumed  too,  many  blamin;^  the 
"  briny  particles,"   wliicli  they  were  sure  were  afloat  in  the  air,  for 
their  oft-recurring  tliirst.     I  must  not  overlook  one  very  extraordi- 
nary character,  who  soon  became  the  lion  of  the  company.     He  was 
a  young  man  from  Alabama,  about  twenty  years  of  age,  and  was  re- 
turning to  America  after  aJbrief  visit  to  some  of  his  relations  in  Scot- 
1  md.     He  was  one  of  the  most  perfect  specimens  of  "  nature's  own," 
that  it  was  ever  my  good  fortune  to  witness.     He  had  escaped  wild 
from  the  prairies  to  visit  Scotland,  having  never  before  seen  any  phase 
of  life,  but  such  as  it  exhibits  on  a  southern  plantation.     Nor  had 
his  brief  contact  with  civilized  life  efTected  any  discernible  transfor- 
mation in  his  character.     He  used  to  walk  the  deck  with  an  "Ar- 
kansas  toothpick  "  in   his   hand,  a  frightful  looking  knife,  with  a 
pointed  blade  seven  inches  long,  with  which  he  occasionally  whittled, 
then  cleaned  his  nails,  and  then  varied  his  amusement  bv  carvinor  his 
teeth  with  it.     One  day  he  approached  the  ladies  who  were  on  deck, 
shut  his  knife  with  a  tremendous  click,  and  asked  them  why  the 
deck  of  the  steamer  was  like  a  pan  of  new  milk?     Being  unable  to 
discover  any  reason  for  this  hypothetical  resemblance,  he  informed 
them,  snorting  at  the  same  time,  in  tones  which  would  have  done  no 
discredit  to  a  hyena,  that  it  was  "  because  it  strengthened  our  calves ;" 
alluding  to  the  muscular  energy  required  in  order  to  keep  one's  feet 
when  the  ship  is  tumbling  about.     One  evening,  after  most  of  the 
company  had  retired  to  their  berths,  a  couple  of  Frenchmen  remained 
sipping  wine  at  one  of  the  tables  in  the  lower  saloon.     Our  Alabama 
friend  sat  opposite  to  them  and  listened  to  their  conversation,  which 
was  carried  on  in  French,  of  which  he  understood  enough  to  divine 
the  drift  of  what  they  were  saying.     They  were  consoling  each  other 
at  the  time  for  some  imasfinarv  evil  bv  abusino-  Eno-land. 

O  -z  V  3  3 

•'Sir,"  said  the  exasperated  Alabamian,  after  they  had  finished,  to 
the  more  loquacious  of  the  two,  "why  don't  you  speak  English?" 

"  I  can't,"  said  the  Frenchman,  superciliously,  and  with  a  strong 
accent,  "  it  sticks  in  my  throat." 

"It  didn't  Slick  in  your  throats  though,  at  Waterloo,  when  you 
cried  quarter,  did  it?"  retorted  the  Alabamian,  laughing  derisively, 
until  he  aroused  every  sleeper  in  the  ship.  The  Frenchman's 
"  imperial "  bristled  with  rage,  but  he  deemed  it  prudent  to  make  no 
reply,  retiring  soon  afterwards  with  his  companion. 

Amongst  those  most  delighted  with  the  retort,  was  a  Cornishman, 
who  remained  until  nearly  ail  had  retired,  and  treated  the  fiery 
southerner  to  sundry  potations  of  brandy  and  water.  Thus  occupied, 
they  sat  up  till  one  o'clock,  by  which  time  they  had  exhausted  the 
water,  allliough  some  brandy  still  remained.  'I'he  steward  being  in 
bed,  an  additional  supply  could  only  be  had  by  the  connivance  of 
some  of  the  watch.  The  Alabamian  volunteered  to  procure  it,  the 
Cornishman  handing  him  a  shilling  to  give  the  man  for  his  trouble. 


THE  WESTERN   WORLD.  1/ 

In  a  few  minutes  he  returned,  having  replenished  the  empty  jug,  and 
laughing  immoderately,  as  if  he  had  perpetrated  a  good  joke. 

♦♦  'Cute  as  he  thought  himself,  I've  done  him  slick,"  said  he. 

"  What!"  asked  the  Cornishman,  "  haven't  you  given  the  man  tho 
shilling?" 

"  No,  to  be  sure,"  said  he,  laughing  again.  "  But  I  showed  h  to 
liim," — and  he  tossed  it  towards  his  companion,  as  if  he  though  l 
him  quite  at  liberty  to  put  it  into  his  pocket  again. 

It  was,  in  fact,'  a  Yankee  trick.  On  asking  the  man  for  the 
water,  he  had,  without  saying  any  thing,  shown  him  the  shilHng,  the 
sight  of  which  so  quickened  tlie  energies  of  the  poor  tar,  that  he  soon 
returned  with  the  quid  pro  quo.  No  sooner,  however,  had  the 
Alabamian  got  the  water,  than  he  coolly  walked  down  to  the  cabin, 
repudiating  liis  implied  contract,  and  leaving  the  sailor  in  a  state  of 
stupor  at  his  petty  rascality  and  impudence.  The  Cornishman 
lauorhed  at  the  trick,  but  obliged  him  nevertheless  to  seek  the  man 
out  and  give  him  his  promised  reward. 

A  sea  voyage  is,  generally  speaking,  monotonous  enough.  Any 
incident,  however  trifling,  goes  some  length  to  relieve  its  tedium.  A 
ship  in  sight  is  an  event  which  occasions  an  excitement  that  would 
appear  ludicrous  to  people  ashore.  But  on  the  dreary  solitudes  of 
the  ocean,  you  hail  such  a  sight  as  you  would,  after  long  absence, 
I  he  appearance  of  a  valued  friend.  It  breaks  in  upon  the  sense  of 
loneliness,  which  oppresses  the  voyager.  From  the  moment  of  her 
appearance,  until  she  slowly  recedes  from  you,  as  the  eternal  circle  of 
your  horizon  rises  above  her,  she  is  an  object  of  intense  interest  to 
all.  You  wonder  what  and  whom  she  carries,  where  she  has  been, 
and  whither  she  is  going,  and  which  of  you  will  first  touch  the  busy 
world  again,  from  which  you  are  now  separated  by  the  heaving  bil- 
lows. It  was  also  a  frequent  amusement  to  us  to  watch  the  ludicrous 
gambollings  of  the  porpoises,  as  they  crossed  our  track  in  long  and 
regular  processions;  and  when  they  approached  very  near,  how 
eagerly  would  we  all  crowd  to  the  ship's  side  to  witness  their  panto- 
mime in  the  water!  A  real  whale  was  too  important  a  personage 
to  cheapen  his  visits  by  their  frequency.  But  how  we  watched  the 
monster,  when  he  did  appear !  and  to  what  exclamations  did  he  not 
give  rise  from  old  and  young,  as  he  "  blew  his  nose,"  as  the  Ala- 
bamian termed  blowing  a  column  of  water  high  into  the  air.  In  the 
absence  of  other  occupation,  1  occasionally  found  amusement  in- 
watching  the  "multitudinous  sea,"  as  its  restless  billows  leaped  and 
foamed  around  me ;  and  could  sometimes  fancy,  as  they  surged,  ami 
rolled,  and  curled  before  the  blast,  that  they  were  endowed  with  con- 
sciousness, and  nodded  to  me,  as  they  passed,  in  token  of  recog 
nition. 

Day  after  day  passed  wearily  on,  each  scarcely  marked  by  any 
distinctive  feature  from  that  which  preceded  or  followed  it.     There 

2* 


IS  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

was  little  to  vary  the  routine  of  our  duties  or  our  pastimes.  The 
breakfasts  were  all  alike,  as  were  also  the  (Hnners,  with  the  excep- 
tion that,  towards  the  end  of  the  voyage,  singing  was  introduced,  at 
the  latter  meal,  with  the  dessert,  when  tiiere  was  something  awful 
as  well  as  romantic  in  hearing  the  chorus  of  a  hundred  voices  added 
to  the  howling  of  the  blast  and  the  splashing  of  the  waves. 

The  smoking  room  was  a  temporary  erection  on  the  main  deck,  a 
little  in  advance  of  the  saloon,  and  so  built  as  to  enclose  the  capstan. 
There,  in   bad  weather,  the   open   deck   being  otherwise   preferred, 
such  as  chose  to  regale  themselves  with   tobacco,  assembled  shortly 
after  dinner.     It  might  have  accommodated  five  and   twenty  com- 
fortably; but  when  it  was  wet  and  stormy,  I  have  seen  double  that 
number  crammed  into  it,  when  the  state  of  its  atmosphere  may  well 
be  conceived  from  the  simultaneous  exhalation  of  fifty  cigars.     Here 
the  song  was  again  raised,  negro  melodies  and  political  pasquinades, 
a  great  proportion  of  the  passengers  being  Americans,  being  most  in 
favour,  and  thus  an  hour  or  two  were  frequently  cheerily  spent.    The 
.over-crowded  enclosure  sometimes  presented  a  very  curious  spectacle. 
As  we  were  not  always  vouchsafed  the  luxury  of  a  lamp,  but  for  the 
light  of  the  consuming  tobacco  we  should  sometimes  have  been  in 
total  darkness.      Familiar  voices  were  heard,   when  familiar  faces 
were  scarcely  discernible — the  fitful  ruddy  glare  of  the  cigars  ever 
and* anon  bringing  them  momentarily  out,  with   Rembrandt  ertect, 
from  the  darkness;   the  whole  scene  looking  as  wild  and   unnatural 
as  the  phantasmagoria  of  a  troubled  dream.     And  all  this  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  Atlantic,  with  the  stout  ship  that  bore  us  tumbling  about, 
like  a  reeling  drunkard,  through  the  darkness;  with  the  heavy  wind, 
laden  with  rain,  beating  against  her  in  angry  gusts,  and   moaning 
through  her  sunken  rigging,  and  with  sea  after  sea  sent  in  shivers 
over  her  deck,  and  falling  heavily  around  us.      Yet  the  jest,  the  laugh, 
the  song,  and  the  smoking  went  on  within,  apparently  with  as  much 
indifference  on  the  part  of  these  present,  as  if  waving  corn  fields  and 
smiling  meadows  had  surrounded  them. 

The  turning  point  of  each  day,  as  to  interest  as  well  as  to  time, 
was  noon,  when  the  observations  were  taken.  How  anxiously  did 
wo  all  await  the  moment  when  the  result  of  the  last  twenty-four 
hours'  sailing  would  be  posted  up  h^rgeneral  inspection  in  the  cabin! 
Then  would  arise  a  series  of  daily  congratulations  or  murmurino-s, 
according  to  the  result.  No  passenger  can  reconcile  himself  at  sea 
to  any  thing  short  of  two  hundred  miles  a  day  ;  and  on  our  reckoning, 
one  day,  showing  a  run  of  only  eighty  miles,  a  state  of  feeling  per- 
vaded the  saloon,  which,  but  for  the  opportune  appearance  of  a  good 
dinner,  might  have  ripened  into  mutiny.  Some,  by  a  process  of 
leasoning,  intelligible  only  to  themselves,  came  to  the  conclusion, 
that  we  might  as  well  have  been  standing  still ;  some  blamed  the  ship, 
others  the  captain;    but  nobody  thought  of  blaming   the  weather. 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  19 

There  were  a  few  who  bitterly  inveighed  against  their  own  luck ; 
whilst  our  Yankee  friends  consoled  themselves  with  predictions  of 
what  the  American  boats  would  do,  should  most  of  them  burst  in 
the  attempt.  But,  after  all,  what  weathercocks  are  men!  Next  day 
we  had  a  splendid  run — 250  miles — and  what  ship  was  ever  in 
such  favour  as  the  Ilibernia  then?  The  wind,  which  had  scarcely 
veered  a  point  since  we  left  Liverpool,  gradually  increased,  until,  at 
length,  on  the  ninth  day  out,  we  were  driven  about  on  the  wings  of 
a  hurricane. 

A  storm  at  sea!  It  is  a  sight  witnessed  never  to  be  forgotten. 
The  warring  of  the  elements  may  be  imposing  upon  land,  but  it  is 
truly  terrible  at  sea.  Trees  may  be  torn  up  by  the  roots,  and  stately 
mansions  may  be  levelled  by  the  blast;  but  the  strong,  solid  earth  is 
unmoved  whilst  the  hurricane  sweeps  on  in  its  path.  But  when  liie 
winds  and  waters  meet,  how  different  the  result!  It  is  on  no  impas- 
sive surface  that  the  tempest  then  expends  its  fury,  but  on  a  sensitive 
element,  which  reflects  its  slightest  frown,  and  trembles  at  its  gentlest 
breath.  When  one  sees  the  sky  serene  and  peaceful  above,  and  the 
ocean  lying  calm  as  a  sleeping  child  below,  it  is  difficult  to  realize 
the  extent  to  which  all  this  beautiful  quiescence  of  nature  may  be 
disturbed.  But  convulsion  is  bred  in  the  lap  of  tranquillity.  Even 
in  its  calmest  moods,  the  Atlantic  is  never  wholly  at  rest;  its  surface 
may  be  as  smooth  as  glass,  but  its  mighty  volume  is  ever  heaving 
and  unduladng,  as  if  disturbing  forces  were  at  work  below.  Tims  it 
will  sometimes  continue  for  days,  glancing  in  the  sunlight  like  a 
waving  mirror.  A  change  from  this  state  of  rest  is  generally  he- 
ralded by  slight  puffs  of  wind,  which  here  and  there  darken  the  sur- 
face of  the  water,  as  the  breath  tarnishes  the  polished  steel.  As  the 
wind  becomes  stronger  arid  steadier,  the  whole  scene  undergoes  a 
transformation:  first  the  ripple,  then  the  wave,  and  finally  the  raging 
tempest.  I  have  known  a  few  hours  suffice  to  produce  this  change, 
obscuring  the  blue  sky  with  drifting  clouds,  and  lashing  the  quiet 
sea  into  billowy  uproar. 

About  ten  in  the  morning  of  the  ninth  day,  it  was  blowing  a  half 
gale  with  us;  the  sea  running  very  high,  and  the  ship  labouring 
heavily.  By  noon  it  had  increased  to  a  hurricane;  and,  as  far  as  the 
eye  could  reach,  the  ocean  presented  but  one  mass  of  drifting  foam. 
Sea  and  sky  seemed  literally  to  commingle;  the  sky  poured  down 
its  deluge,  and  the  waves  shot  up  their  spray.  The.  aspect  of  the 
ocean,  at  such  a  time,  is  scarcely  to  be  depicted.  On  all  hands  its 
surging  waters  leap  in  angry  tumult  around  you.  As  they  swell  and 
curl  and  break,  and  the  white  foam  rushes  down  their  dark  leaden 
sides,  the  waves  roar  and  liiss,  as  do  the  breakers  on  the  beach ;  and 
loaded  as  the  air  then  is  with  vapour  and  rain,  an  indistinctness  is 
thrown  over  the  whole  scene,  which  adds  greatly  to  its  terrors. 
'I'he  good  ship  stood  her  trial  right  well.     Now  she  quivered  on 


20  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

the  lop  of  a  luiire  wave,  from  which  she  phinged,  burying  her  prow 
deep  in  llie  iroui^h,  and  beating  back  the  resisting  water  in  foam  from 
her  stalwart  shoulders;  she  then  recovered  herself  to  meet  the  coming 
billow,  up  whose  steep  sides  she  would  bravely  climb,  and  plunge 
again  to  breast  another.  Thus  she  laboured  for  four  and  twenty 
hours,  sometimes  standing,  as  it  were,  on  her  prow,  and  at  others 
lying  almost  on  her  beam-ends.  Now  and  then,  despite  the  most  cau- 
tious steering,  the  baffled  waves  would  strike  her  with  a  force,  which 
made  her  quiver  again  from  stem  to  stern;  but  she  generally  levenged 
lierself  by  sending  the  assailant  billows,  in  clouds  of  spray,  high  up 
amonijst  the  ritjirinff,  whence  thev  would  descend  in  drenchin": 
showers  over  her  wliole  length.  All  this  time  the  engines  kept  steadi- 
ly at  their  work,  the  tempest  impeding,  but  not  wliolly  interrupting 
her  progress.  About  noon  next  day  the  wind  greaUy  moderated, 
and  by  G  r.  m.  had  fallen  below  a  half  gale.  The  sea  rapidly  fell, 
and  with  this  change  came  a  period  of  inexpressible  relief,  the  crew 
seeking  repose  after  their  exertions,  and  the  very  ship  seeming  to 
sleep  after  her  heavy  travail  and  fatigue. 

As  we  crossed  the  eastern  edge  of  the  great  bank,  the  sky  cleared, 
and  the  temperature  fell,  but  there  came  no  change  in  the  direction 
of  the  steady  adverse  wind,  which  now  blew  fresh,  bearing  the  sharp 
frost  upon  its  wings,  from  the  icy  coasts  of  Labrador  and  Newfound- 
land. For  three  days  afterwards,  it  was  intensely  cold  and  intensely 
bright,  the  ocean  glittering  under  the  brilliant  sunlight  like  a  mass  of 
moving  diamonds.  On  approaching  the  coast  of  Nova  Scotia,  the 
temperature  moderated,  the  wind  veering  round  to  the  north-east. 
On  Sunday  morning,  the  14th  day  out,  we  were  within  sixty  miles 
of  IlaliAix,  and,  of  course,  looked  forward  to  making  port  that  after- 
noon. But  the  horizon  behind  us  rapidly  thickened  and  darkened, 
and  a  few  flakes  of  snow  which  eddied  in  the  air  gave  unmistakeable 
token  that  a  storm  was  in  our  wake.  Half  an  hour  afterwards,  we 
were  lying  to,  under  bare  poles,  in  the  midst  of  a  raging  north-easter, 
wliich  whirled  the  snow  in  blinding  masses  about  the  ship.  There 
was  no  alternative  left  us  but  to  keep  her  in  deep  water,  which  was 
ofl'ected  by  means  of  constant  soundings,  which  sometimes  showed 
a  depth  of  forty  fathoms,  and,  at  other  times,  of  three  hundred  — 
enough  to  convince  us  that  we  were  in  rather  a  dangerous  neighbour- 
hood. 'J'iie  wind  continued  to  blow  with  unabated  fury,  and  the 
snow  to  fall  in  undiminished  quantities,  for  fifteen  hours,  during  which 
it  was  impossible  to  see  more  than  half  a  ship's  length  a-head.  About 
midnight,  there  came  a  change,  but  only  in  the  shape  of  a  new  im- 
pediment. 'J'he  wind  suddenly  chopped  round  again  to  the  north- 
west; the  heavy  clouds,  flying  from  its  icy  breath,  were  speedily 
rolled  away  like  a  curtain;  as  if  by  magic,  the  whole  heavens  were 
at  once  displayed,  and  the  bright  stars  twinkled  cheerily  down  upon 
us  from  a  sky  of  the  deepest  blue.      We  immediately  resumed  our 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD  21 

course,  but  in  half  an  hour's  time  were  compelled  once  more  to  lie 
to.  A  dense  vapour,  which  rose  from  the  surface  of  the  water  like 
steam  from  a  boiling  cauldron,  soon  became  so  impervious  to  tiu! 
sight,  as  to  prevent  us  from  seeing,  even  in  daylight,  beyond  twenty 
yards  from  the  ship's  side.  In  addition  to  the  detention  caused  us 
l)y  the  snow  storm,  the  second  impediment  kept  us,  for  thirty-six 
hours  longer,  to  our  soundings.  The  cold,  all  this  time,  was  most 
intense.  1  once  ventured  on  deck, just  as  the  lead  was  heaved;  and 
as  the  men  were  drawing  in  the  cord  again,  I  made  bold  to  take  hold 
of  it  with  my  naked  hand — it  was  as  if  I  had  grasped  a  bar  of  red- 
hot  iron.  The  mist  which  enveloped  us  congealed  and  fell  in  tiny 
flakes  on  the  deck;  and  this,  added  to  the  spray  which,  whenever  it 
broke  over  us,  froze  as  soon  as  it  touched  the  ship,  soon  overlappetl 
deck,  paddle-boxes,  rigging,  and  every  prominent  object  on  board, 
except  the  hot  funnel,  with  a  thick  coating  of  ice,  of  which  we  must 
have  carried  with  us  nearly  a  hundred  tons  into  Halifax.  On  the 
morning  of  the  sixteenth  day,  the  mist  disappeared,  and  such  as  chose 
to  face  the  cold  were  on  deck,  eagerly  looking  out  for  land.  I  was 
in  the  saloon  about  ten  o'clock,  when  the  cry  of  land  was  shouted 
overhead.  I  rushed  upon  deck,  and  there,  directly  a-head  of  us,  lay 
the  coast  of  Nova  Scotia,  like  a  stranded  iceberg.  We  hit  it  about 
twenty  miles  above  the  entrance  to  the  deep  and  well-sheltered  bay 
of  Halifax,  long  before  entering  which  we  could  discern  the  position 
of  this  town  by  the  thin  cloud  of  bluish-looking  smoke,  which  rose 
from  its  wooden  fires.  The  wharves  were  crowded,  and  we  were 
greeted  with  cheers  on  our  arrival.  Every  thing  around  was  such 
as  to  remind  the  Englishman  that  he  had  passed  to  a  new  hemi- 
sphere. The  deep  snow,  the  wooden  wharves  and  houses,  the  furs 
in  which  the  people  were  clad,  the  enormous  piles  of  cord -wood 
upon  the  shore,  and  the  merry  jingling  of  the  sleigh-bells,  afforded 
undeniable  proof,  if  such  were  wanting,  that  we  were  far  from  home. 
We  went  ashore  in  parties,  and  made  merry  for  the  evening.  Our 
relations  with  the  United  States,  which  were  then  rather  critical,  I 
found  to  be  the  chief  subject  of  interest,  and  the  chief  topic  of  con- 
versation. 

"  I  hope  we'll  have  war,"  said  a  young  man,  a  native  Nova  Sco- 
tian,  who  stood  near  me  at  the  bar  of  the  principal  hotel. 

"Why  so?"  I  inquired. 

"  Won't  the  prizes  come  in  here,  if  we  have  ?"  was  the  reply,  given 
with  an  emphasis  which  showed  that  the  speaker  was  in  earnest  and 
enjoyed  the  prospect.  "  'Tis  an  ill  wind  that  blows  nobody  good," 
is  a  proverb  of  universal  recognition.  Let  earth  and  ocean  be  deluged 
with  blood,  let  continent  be  arrayed  against  continent,  and  peace  and 
plenty  give  way  to  wholesale  misery  and  crime,  some  would  be  sure 
to  fatten  on  the  general  calamity;  and  there  were  few  in  Halifax  who 
would  not  have  welcomed  war,  with  all  its  horrors,  because  it  would 
have  brought  prizes  into  their  harbour. 


22  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

When  we  crossed  the  Bay  of  Fundy  next  day,  it  was  as  calm  as 
a  summer  lake,  aliliough  there  are  times  when  no  sea  on  earth  can 
assume  an  angrier  mood.  On  the  following  morning,  we  had  a  stiff 
breeze  oil"  the  land,  which  retarded  our  progress.  Towards  even- 
ing the  wind  fell,  but  was  succeeded  by  another  fog,  which  com- 
pelled us  to  lie  to  again  for  nearly  twelve  hours  more,  in  sight  of 
some  of  the  lights  which  lead  into  the  harbour  of  Boston.  It  was  ten 
o'clock  next  day  ere  the  steamer  reached  the  dock;  and  glad  enough 
were  we  all  to  land,  after  a  tempestuous  passage  of  nineteen  days' 
duration. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  CAPITAL  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 

The  Harbour  and  approaches  to  the  City — Classic  Ground. — Appearance  of 
Boston  from  the  Bay. — Custom  House  Officers. — Entrance  into  the  City. — 
The  United  States  Hotel,  and  its  Dependencies,  Texas  and  Oregon. — Stroll 
through  the  City. — The  Commercial  Quarter.— Variety  of  Craft  at  the 
Quays. — Steamers — Wholesale  Quarter. — Retail  Quarters. — The  com- 
mon.— The  State  House. — The  Fashionable  Quarter. — AVashington  street. — 
Pedestrians.— Mount  Auburn. 

Cold  was  the  morning,  crisp  was  the  air,  and  bright  w-as  the  sky, 
when  we  entered  the  harbour  of  Boston.  There  was  scarcely  a 
breath  of  wind  stirring,  but  the  waters  of  the  spacious  bay  that  fronts 
the  town  were  slightly  agitated  by  the  uneasy  swell  which  came 
rolling  in  from  the  Atlantic;  the  force  of  which  was  broken  by  the 
scieen  of  islands  protecting  the  entrance  to  the  harbour,  'i'he  sky 
was  without  a  cloud  ;  and  the  numerous  masses  of  floating  ice  with 
which  the  deep  blue  water  was  speckled,  looked  like  so  many  orna- 
ments of  frosted  silver  on  a  basis  of  steel.  Some  of  the  islands  are 
fortified,  one  very  strongly  so,  its  sides  being  artificially  sloped  down 
to  the  water's  edge,  so  as  to  remove  every  impediment  to  the  free 
range  of  its  guns.  Numerous  vessels,  of  all  sizes  and  rigs,  floated 
lazily  on  the  bay,  conspicuous  amongst  which  was  the  frigate  (Uim- 
herland,  which  has  since  played  a  not  unimportant  part  in  the  Mexi- 
can war. 

The  deck  was  covered  with  a  slight  sprinkling  of  snow,  which 
creaked  beneath  our  feet,  as  we  paced  ra])idly  to  and  fro  for  warinth. 


THE  WESTERN   WOKLD.  23 

It  was  an  interesting  moment,  and  I  kept  above,  notwithstanding  the 
cold.  Around  me  were  the  spots  in  which  some  of  the  most  im- 
portant episodes  in  the  history  of  the  New  World  were  enacted  ; 
localities  held  classic  by  every  American.  Here  was  first  planted 
the  germ  of  the  greatest  colonial  fabric  that  ever  existed,  and  here 
was  first  struck  the  blow  which  revolutionized  it  into  independent 
nationality.  It  was  here  that  imperial  Britain  received  her  tirst  and 
her  rudest  shock,  which  in  its  issues,  wrested  a  continent  from  her 
grasp.  Here  first  settled  the  stern  and  sturdy  champions  of  that 
religious  liberty,  which  they  themselves  so  grossly  outraged  as  soon 
as  they  had  the  power.  I  was  afloat  on  the  very  waters  into  which 
was  hurled  the  obnoxious,  because  taxed,  tea,  and  in  the  midst  of 
the  very  echoes  which  reverberated  to  the  first  cry  of  the  revolution. 
No  Englishman  can  look  upon  such  a  scene  and  escape,  even  if  he 
would,  the  memories  of  the  past.  Its  mementos  are  every  where 
around  him.  Here  are  the  memorials  of  a  past  race;  there  floats 
the  emblem  of  a  new  power;  whilst,  side  by  side  with  the  relics  of 
colonial  times,  stand  the  issues  and  the  trophies  of  independence. 
There  is  every  thing  to  connect  the  past  in  mournful  interest  with 
the  present  and  the  future.  English  names  are  plentiful  around 
you,  and  many  objects  within  view  have  an  English  look  about  them. 
Yet,  when  the  Englishman  steps  ashore,  it  is  on  a  foreign,  though  a 
friendly  land. 

As  seen  from  the  bay,  ihere  is  no  city  in  the  Union  which  has  a 
more  imposing  appearance  than  Boston.  It  seems  to  envelop,  from 
its  apex  to  its  base,  a  conical  hill,  which  rises  from  the  water  with  a 
slight  acclivity;  the  successive  terraces  in  which  it  mounts  to  the 
summit,  being  crowned  by  the  spacious  dome  of  the  "State  House," 
the  seat  of  the  legislature  of  Massachusetts.  In  addition  to  being  thus 
ornamental  to  the  city,  this  prominent  object  is  highly  useful  to  the 
mariner,  the  gilded  cone  at  its  top  being  discernible  at  sea  long  before 
any  surrounding  object  becomes  visible.  At  its  base  the  town  ap- 
pears girdled  with  a  frame-work  of  masts,  sustaining  a  network  of 
rigging.  To  give  life  to  the  scene,  steamers  are  plying  constanfly 
to  and  fro,  connecting  the  city  with  its  diff'erent  suburbs.  That  great 
shapeless  mass,  just  seen  a  litde  to  the  right  in  the  distance,  looming 
up  over  every  thing  in  its  vicinity,  is  the  obelisk  erected  on  Bunker's 
Hill  to  commemorate  a  batfle,  which  jf  not  exacfly  won  by  the  Ame- 
ricans, was  the  first  irretrievable  step  taken  by  thom  in  a  long,  event- 
ful, and  ultimately  successful  struggle.  Hundreds  of  the  "  tall  chim- 
neys "  in  our  manufacturing  districts  have  quite  as  imposing  an 
appearance  as  has  Bunker's  Hill  monument.  The  small  villages 
which  are  scattered  about  in  every  direction,  glistening  in  the  morning 
sunlight,  are  so  many  suburbs  of  the  city,  with  which  it  is  connected 
by  long  wooden  bridges,  with  the  exception  of  the  insular  suburbs  of 
East  Boston,  where  we  land,  and  with  which,  being  separated  from 


24  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

the  town  by  a  branch  of  the  harbour,  the  communication  is  maintained 
by  steam  ferry-boats. 

Landed  at  leni^th — and  if  the  reader  will  aacompany  me,  we  will 
take  a  stroll  together  through  the  town. 

It  is  early,  but  the  custom-house  officers  are  at  their  posts.  They 
do  not  look  very  promising,  but  we  pass  without  difficulty  or  delay; 
the  examination  being  more  nominal  than  otherwise.  I  afterwards 
found  that  civility  and  courtesy  were  uniformly  extended  by  the 
federal  officers,  both  to  strangers  and  natives  landing  in  the  country — 
a  pleasing  contrast  to  the  wanton  and  unmannerly  conduct  which  is 
sometimes  pursued  in  our  own  ports,  particularly  in  Liverpool,  where 
custom-house  officials  too  frequendy  conduct  themselves  as  if  vulga- 
rity and  insolence  constituted  the  chief  qualifications  for  office. 

Carriages  now  convey  us,  baggage  and  all,  to  the  ferry-boat;  which, 
in  its  turn,  conveys  us,  carriages,  baggage  and  all,  in  less  than  five 
minutes,  to  the  city.  Our  first  object  is  to  search  for  an  hotel,  and 
refresh  ourselves  with  a  thorough  ablution  and  a  comfortable  meal 
on  land.  Passing  the  Tremont  House,  which  is  full,  we  draw  up 
at  the  United  States  Hotel,  an  enormous  pile  of  red  brick,  perforated 
by,  I  am  afraid  to  say,  how  many  rows  of  windows  having  a  large 
wing  on  one  side  called  Texas,  and  one  in  process  of  completion,  on 
the  other,  to  be  called  Oregon.  The  next  addition  made  will,  doubt- 
less, be  California.  We  are  ushered  up  a  marble  staircase  into  a 
spacious  hall,  the  floor  of  which  looks  like  a  gigantic  chequer-board, 
being  composed  of  alternate  squares  of  black  and  white  marble,  look- 
ing exceedingly  elegant,  but,  during  this  season  of  the  year,  being 
both  very  cold  and  very  slippery.  We  apply  for  rooms  at  the  bar, 
which,  in  the  usual  sense  of  the  term,  is  no  bar,  but  the  counting- 
house  of  the  establishment,  in  \vhich  a  clerk,  elaborately  caparisoned, 
sits  enthroned,  at  a  considerable  elevation,  before  a  desk,  which  in 
point  of  cost  and  construction  would  be  a  piece  of  extravagance  in  a 
Bank  parlour.  The  walls  around  him  are  literally  covered  with 
bells,  each  having  beneath  it  the  number  of  the  room  to  which  it  cor- 
responds, and  they  count  by  hundreds.  My  flesh  creeps  at  the  bare 
contemplation  of  the  possibility  of  their  being  all  rung  at  once. 

We  dine  comfortably  in  a  private  room,  to  gain  which  we  have  to 
thread  counUess  lobbies,  lying  at  all  conceivable  angles  to  each  other. 
How  a  warm  meal  finds  its  way  such  a  distance  from  a  fixed  kitchen, 
is  a  mystery  to  us.  But  notwithstanding  the  appalling  diffiiculties 
obviously  in  the  way, — for  it  is  brought  all  the  way  from  Texas  to 
Oregon, — it  is  as  speedily  as  it  is  well  served.  So,  now  that  we 
have  dined,  for  a  stroll  through  the  town, — and  let  us  first  inspect  its 
commercial  quarter. 

Although  Boston  is  almost  entirely  surrounded  by  water,  you  per- 
ceive that  the  real  harbour  is  not  very  extensive.  Some  of  the 
wharves  are  built  of  wood,  others  are  securely  faced  with  stone,  the 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  25 

latter  presenting  a  very  substantial  appearance.  The  depth  of  the 
water  enables  vessels  of  all  sizes,  devices,  and  rigging,  to  commingle, 
as  it  were,  with  the  houses  and  warehouses  that  line  the  shore,  some 
of  the  slips  running  short  distances  into  the  land,  and  being  flanked 
by  piles  of  massive  and  durable  buildings,'  exclusively  set  apart  for 
commercial  purposes.  Here  is  a  slip  devoted  apparently  to  the  ex- 
clusive use  and  occupation  of  European  packets;  large  placards,  at- 
tached to  the  shrouds,  announcing  their  destinations  and  times  of 
sailing.  Here  we  are  now  in  front  of  the  coasting  craft;  and  an  ex- 
traordinary medley  do  they  present.  What  a  variety  of  rig  and  build ; 
and  how  unfit  some  of  the  smaller  ones  appear  for  the  dangerous 
navigation  of  the  American  coast!  Having  grown  a  little  familiar 
with  them,  you  can  almost  tell,  from  their  appearance,  between  what 
points  they  trade.  That  substantial  looking  schooner  which  you  see 
scudding  before  a  gentle  land  breeze,  will  be  off  Cape  Cod  to-night, 
in  her  intricate  and  circuitous  voyage  to  New  York.  That  prim- 
looking  brig,  with  her  masts  so  tall  and  tapeiing,  her  spars  so  trim, 
her  rigging  so  regular,  her  sham  port-holes  so  very  white,  and  her 
hull  of  so  shiny  a  black,  will,  as  soon  as  she  clears — and  she  is  al- 
ready loaded — be  off  for  the  Delaware,  and  be  moored,  in  a  few  days, 
in  front  of  the  Quaker  city.  The  cluster  of  less  elegant-looking  craft, 
which  lie  a  litde  beyond  her,  are,  as  their  placards  inform  us,  "direct 
for  Charleston,"  for  "Mobile,"  or  for  "New  Orleans;"  that  is  to 
say,  as  direct  as  baffling  winds  and  the  gulf  stream  will  admit  of. 
But  what  have  we  here?  A  whole  slip  full  of  small  fry,  packed  as 
closely  together  as  herring  boats  at  a  fishing  station,  and  their  slender 
masts  standing  as  thick  as  bulrushes  in  a  swamp.  There  can  be  no 
mistake  about  them,  their  rig  and  rakish  contour  bespeaking  them 
for  the  Chesapeake.  They  are,  in  fact,  the  far-famed  Baltimore 
clippers;  and  "For  Baltimore  direct,"  say  most  of  them.  You  may 
well  stare,  but  that  extraordinary  naval  abortion,  which  you  are  now 
contemplating,  is  a  veritable  steamer.  True  it  seems  to  be  built  of 
Bristol  board;  but,  in  these  matters,  such  is  the  taste  here.  It  is  for 
Newport,  Rhode  Island,  and  has  to  ply  along  one  of  the  stormiest  of 
coasts.  The  huge  upper  deck,  stretched,  from  end  to  end,  on  such 
slender  posts,  looks  as  if  it  would  flutter  before  the  slightest  breeze, 
like  the  canvass  spread  over  a  peripatetic  menagerie.  It  seems,  in 
fact,  to  be  neither  more  nor  less  than  a  huge  compound  of  scantlings 
and  white  paint,  with  a  touch  of  black  at  some  of  the  seams.  Put 
a  match  to  it,' and  off  goes  the  inflammable  monster  like  gun-cotton. 
Its  engines  are  good  as  compared  with  those  on  the  Mississippi,  though 
they  would  cut  but  a  sorry  figure  on  a  stormy  night  off  the  Isle  of 
Man.  As  the  steam  hisses  through  the  escape-pipe,  the  whole  mass 
tumbles  like  a  very  jelly.  Yet,  notwithstanding  all  this,  you  have 
before  vou  one  of  the  stronirest  class  of  American  steamers.     You 

VOL.  I- — 3 


26  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

have  yet  to  witness  those  constructed  for  tlie  navigation  of  the  inland 
waters.     13iit  let  nie  not  anticipate  your  surprise. 

Along  the  wharves  there  is  every  appearance  of  great  activity ;  and, 
thiclvly  strewn  around  you,  are  all  the  insignia  of  an  extensive  com- 
merce. Raw  cotton  in  countless  bales;  piles  of  manufactured  goods 
for  the  South  American  and  Chinese  markets;  whole  acres  covered 
with  parallel  rows  of  clean  white  barrels,  some  of  them  well-nigh 
bursting  with  flour,  others  full  of  salt:  hogsheads  of  sugar,  and 
others  of  leaking  molasses:  stacks  of  leather  and  pyramids  of  mar- 
ble blocks;  bags  of  cotfee,  chests  of  tea,  and  bulging  orange  boxes, 
are  discernible  on  every  hand.  By  each  pile  is  a  clerk,  busily  no- 
ting all  that  may  be  added  to,  or  subtracted  from  it;  dealers,  whole- 
sale and  retail,  masters  and  men,  consignors  and  consignees,  and  light 
and  heavy  porters,  arc  bustling  about;  the  apparent  confusion  being 
heightened  by  the  drays,  some  of  which  are  rattling  empty,  and 
others  crawling  heavily  laden,  over  the  hard  granite. 

Leaving  the  water-side,  you  enter  some  short  crooked  streets  of 
warehouses,  almost  as  dark  and  dingy  as  Tooley-street,  or  Thames- 
street.  INIost  of  them  are  fire-proof,  and  seem  to  be  mailed  in^iron 
shutters.  Passing  them,  we  come  to  the  Irish  quarter,  which,  as 
usual,  having  no  attractions,  but  the  reverse,  we  may  as  well  retrace 
our  steps  a  little,  and  make  for  the  heart  of  the  town. 

You  are  surprised  to  find,  in  a  country  like  this,  with  so  much 
spare  land,  and  so  many  symmetrical  towns  built  upon  it,  the  streets 
of  one  of  its  finest  capitals  so  straitened  and  devious.  But  this  is 
easily  accounted  for.  In  the  first  place  the  foundations  of  Boston  were 
laid  ere  the  old  irregular  system  of  building  had  been  departed  from; 
and  in  the  next,  although  there  is  land  enough  around  it,  the  precise 
ground  which  the  city  occupies  is  of  rather  limited  dimensions]  It 
consists  of  an  irregular  peninsula,  with  a  very  uneven  surface,  the 
strip  of  ground  called  "  the  neck,''  joining  it  to  the  main  land.  This 
peninsula,  to  which  the  city  proper  is  confined,  is  covered  with  houses, 
and  the  city  now  relieves  itself  from  the  pressure  of  population  by 
means  of  the  many  small  towns  and  villages,  which  are  scattered 
like  so  many  colonies  over  the  mainland  and  islands  around  it. 

"A  fine  town  is  this  Baltimore  !"  said  I,  one  day,  to  a  New  Eng- 
lander  with  whom  I  was  conversing  in  the  capital  of  Maryland ;  "  it 
is  a  pity  that  Boston  is  not  as  spacious  in  its  accommodations  and  as 
regular  in  its  plan." 

•'  What  we  want  in  Boston,"  said  he, "  is  territory  to  build  on. 
If  we  were  as  flush  of  it  as  they  are  here,  we  would  make  them  sing 
small  in  the  city  way,  that's  a  fact." 

It  must  be  confessed,  to  the  credit  of  the  corporation  of  Boston, 
that  they  are  doing  all  in  their  power  to  diminish  the  vocal  perfor- 
mances of  other  communities  in  this   respect;    many  of  the  more 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  27 

rrowded    thoroughfares    having   recently   been   both    widened   and 
straightened. 

As  might  be  expected,  as  you  recede   from  the  water-side,  the 
business  of  the  town  assumes  more  of  a  retail  character.     As  you 
advance  towards  the  centre,  you  come  in  contact  with  its  different 
markets  and  with  its  banking,  civic,  and  other  public  establishments. 
Faneuil  Market  is  inferior  in  size,  but  superior  in  architecture  and 
internal  arrangements,  to  that  of  Liverpool.     Immediately  beyond, 
is  the  very  focus  of  the  retail  business  of  the  town.      The  shops  are 
large,  having,  in  general,  a  wider  frontage  than  with  us.     They  are 
gorged  with  goods,  so  much  so  as  literally  to  ooze  out  at  doors  and 
windows  ;  and  what  a  gaudy  flaunting  show  they  make!     Piled  in 
tempting  masses   on  the   hard   brick   pavement,  you    are  ready  to 
stumble  over  goods  at  every  step  you  take,  whilst  from  the  upper 
windows  stream  whole  pieces  of  flaring  calicos  and  gaudy  ribbons; 
the  whole  impressing  one  with  the  idea  that  business  was  making  a 
holiday  of  it,  and  had  donned,  for  the  occasion,  its  most  showy  habi- 
liments.    A  winding  and  irregular  street  now  leads  us  up  a  rather 
steep  ascent,  in  climbing  which,  we  find  ourselves  in  front  of  old 
Faneuil  Hall.     There  is  no  building  in  America  held  in  such  reve- 
rence as  this.     It  is  held  sacred  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific, 
from  the  Lakes  to  the  Gulf,  as  "  the  cradle  of  liberty,"  and  the  place 
in  which  the  tocsin  of  the  revolution  was  first  sounded.     It  is  large, 
but,  in  an  architectural  point  of  view,  unworthy  of  notice,  its  historic 
associations  constituting  its  chief  attraction.     We  now  advance  up 
State-street,  a  fine  business  street,  but  neither  so  spacious  nor  im- 
posing as  Tremont  Row,  into  which  it  leads.     Passing  the  Tremont 
House,  we  emerge  upon  the  "  Common,"  a  large  open  space,  about 
seventy  acres  in  extent,  in  the  upper  part  of  the  town.     For  this 
miniature  park  the  Bostonians  are  indebted  to  the  munificence  of  a 
private  individual,  who  devised  it  to  the  corporation,  on  condition  of 
its  being  left  perpetually  open  for  the  health  and  recreation  of  the 
citizens.     On  a  commanding  site  on  one  side  of  this  common,  and 
overlooking  the  whole  town,  the  circumjacent  suburbs,  and  a  vast 
stretch  of  sea  and  land  beyond,  stands  the  State  House,  with  its 
classic  colonnade,  surmounted  by  the  dome  already  alluded  to.     In 
the  large  hall,  as  you  enter  it,  is  a  statue  of  Washington,  from  the 
chisel  of  Chantrey,  the  chief  features  of  the  interior  being  the  two 
chambers  of  the  legislature.     The  House  of  Representatives  is  a 
large  square  room,  capable  of  accommodating  about  400  persons, 
scantily  ornate,  and  looking  as  cold   and  comforfless  as  a  country 
meeting-house.     The  Senate  Chamber  is  a  smaller  apartment,  and 
somewhat  more  attractive  in  its   appearance.     Its  chief  ornament, 
and  placed  over  the  door,  opposite  the  speaker's  chair,  is  an  old 
drum,  captured  in  one  of  the  earlier  battles  of  the  Revolution.     It 
is  placed  there  as  an  incitement  to  American  youth,  and  as  a  terror 


28  THE  WESTERN  WORLD, 

to  all  British  drummers.  It  is  not  beaten  that  I  am  aware  of,  in  the 
senate,  but  it  by  no  means  follows  therefrom  that  hollow  sounds  are 
alien  to  that  body. 

In  the  more  immediate  vicinity  of  the  Common  is  the  fashionable 
quarter  of  Boston.  The  terraces,  which  line  it  on  either  side,  con- 
sist of  spacious  mansions  built  in  the  main  of  brick  and  granite;  the 
hall  doors  being  approached  by  granite  or  marble  steps,  and  the 
window-sills  and  capping  being  frequently  composed  of  marble. 

Almost  every  house  is  garnished  by  Venetian  blinds  outside  the 
windows,  the  green  colour  of  which  contrasts  pleasingly  with  the 
red  brick,  sometimes  painted  of  a  deeper  red,  with  white  pencillings 
at  the  joinings,  which  impart  to  the  whole  a  light,  airy,  and  elegant 
appearance.  Every  thing  about  these  comfortable-looking  dwellings 
is  scrupulously  clean;  indeed,  generally  speaking,  the  credit  of  great 
cleanliness  is  due  to  Boston  as  a  whole,  being  admirably  situated 
with  respect  to  drainage,  and  its  opportunities,  in  this  respect,  not 
having  been  neglected.  But  having  glanced  at  their  towm,  it  is  now 
time  to  take  a  passing  peep  at  the  Bostonians  themselves.  Let  us 
then  to  Washington  street — the  Regent-street  of  Boston — as  it  is 
now  the  hour  for  promenade.  You  had  better,  however,  put  up 
your  cigar  case,  for  smoking  is  not  allowed  in  the  streets.  You 
may  chew  until  you  expectorate  yourself  away,  and  may  poison 
your  dwelling  with  smoke  to  your  heart's  content,  but  a  whiff  in  the 
open  air  is  a  luxury  not  to  be  enjoyed  in  Boston  under  a  penalty 
of  five  dollars. 

This  is  Washington- street,  as  varying  in  width,  and  as  irregular 
in  its  architecture,  as  the  Strand.  The  shops  on  either  side  make 
a  goodly  display  of  rich,  tempting,  and  ornamental  wares  ;  the  pave- 
ment is  spacious,  and  covered  with  pedestrians  who  pass  on,  without 
looking  to  the  right  or  to  the  left,  or  linger,  as  their  fancy  may  dic- 
tate, by  the  "  Dry  Goods  Store,"  the  "  Hardware  Store,"  the  "  Book 
Store,"  the  "  Grocery  Store,"  the  "  H  at  Store,"  or  the  "  Shoe  Store," — 
for  they  are  all  "  Stores,"  without  a  single  shop  amongst  them.  Let 
no  Englishman  insinuate  to  any  American  that  he  keeps  a  shop — that 
would  be  a  grade  too  low  for  a  free  and  enlightened  citizen  to  stoop  to. 
In  all  this  flitting  crowd,  you  can  scarcely  point  to  a  single  individual 
who  is  not  well  dressed.  The  Americans  cannot  afford  to  be  nig:- 
gard  of  broad-cloth,  for  there  is  no  nation  on  earth  in  which  the  coat 
goes  so  far  to  make  the  man.  Fustian  (not  moral)  is  little  known  in 
America.  Canvass-back  ducks  they  have  in  abundance,  but  no  can- 
vass-backed  people.  The  countenances  of  those  we  pass  bespeak 
a  very  general  diffusion  of  intelligence,  an  intellectuality  of  expres- 
sion being,  as  I  afterwards  discovered,  more  common  to  the  Bosto- 
nians than  to  the  inhabitants  of  any  other  city  in  the  Union.  The 
ladies  form  a  very  fair  proportion  of  the  throng.  They  are  gene- 
rally of  the  middle  height,  well  rounded,  of  a  i^ood  carriage,  with  fea- 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD,  29 

tnrcs  as  pleasing  as  their  complexions  are  florid.  Tlie  bracing  air 
of  the  sea-board,  however,  is  fatal  to  many  of  them,  groups  of  con- 
sumptive patients  having  annually  to  fly  from  New  England  into  the 
interior. 

They  are  not  shy,  and  yet,  at  the  same  time,  are  not  bold ;  dis- 
carding in  their  promenades  the  affected  prudery  with  which  they 
are  so  generally  charged,  and  acting,  as  they  pass,  as  if  they  saw  no 
reason  why  a  daughter  of  Adam  should  not  look  upon  a  son  of  Eve. 

A  view  of  Boston  would  be  incomplete  without  an  allusion,  how- 
ever brief,  to  Mount  Auburn,  its  chief  cemetery.  Although  not  situ- 
ated within  the  precincts  of  the  town,  a  more  appropriate  spot  for  the 
purposes  to  which  it  is  consecrated,  can  scarcely  be  conceived  than 
this.  It  is  very  extensive,  its  surface  being  beautifully  varied  by  gen- 
tle undulations,  the  sides  of  some  of  which  are  already  clustered  with 
tombs.  Well-kept  walks  and  avenues  are  laid  out  through  it  in 
every  direction,  skirted  in  the  summer  time  with  the  richest  foliage, 
the  principal  avenues  taking  their  respective  names  from  the  trees 
which  predominate  on  either  side.  Here  and  there,  too,  you  come 
upon  a  small  still  pond,  fringed  with  shrubbery,  and  reposing,  as  it 
were,  in  a  state  of  funereal  seclusion.  If  any  thing  is  calculated  to 
deprive  death  of  its  terrors,  it  is  thus  preparing  a  sweet  resting-place 
for  the  dead.  How  different  from  our  foul,  fetid,  and  over-crowded 
burying-places  in  the  heart  of  London,  which  make  the  grave  hideous 
to  the  imagination!  But  in  Boston,  as  in  Paris,  they  have  taken 
these  things  under  municipal  control,  not  permitting  the  clergy,  as 
with  us,  to  turn  to  pecuniary  account  even  the  last  debt  of  nature. 
The  great  objection  to  the  coup  cVceil  of  Mount  Auburn  is,  that  there 
is  too  much  sameness  in  its  monuments.  Many  are  exceedingly 
elegant,  but  there  can  be  traced  amongst  them  a  similitude  which 
soon  palls  upon  one.  In  this  respect  it  falls  short  of  the  Parisian 
cemeteries,  but  in  none  other,  for  if  it  has  not  the  artificial  adorn- 
ments, it  is  certainly  not  bedaubed  with  the  frippery  of  Pere-la- 
Chaise. 

But  the  ramble  becomes  wearisome,  and  as  I  have  to  start  soon 
by  train  for  New  York,  it  is  time  to  return  to  our  hotel. 


30 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 


CHAPTER  III. 

A  NIGHT  BETWEEN  BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK. 

Different  Routes  to  New  York. — A  Railway  Carriage.— Aspect  and  Charac- 
ter of  the  Country. — Worcester.— Awkward  Partings.— A  Night  Scene  on 
the  Rail.— Diversified  Occupations  of  the  New  England  Farmers. — Arrival 
and  Detention  at  Norwich. — Unavailing  Scramble  for  Accommodations. — 
A  hearty  Meal.— Flexibility  of  American  Character.— Liberation  from 
Norwich.— New  London. — An  Obelisk  and  an  incident.— Questions  and 
Answers. — Arrival  at  New  York. 

In  addition  to  the  round-about  journey  by  sea,  the  city  of  New 
York  is  approached  from  Boston  by  three  different  routes,  each  of 
which  is  a  combination  of  railway  and  steamboat  travelling.  The 
Long  Island  railway  being  blocked  up  by  snow,  I  selected  the  loute 
by  Norwich  in  preference  to  that  by  Stonington,  the  former  curtail- 
ing the  sea  voyage  by  about  thirty  miles,  a  serious  consideration,  as 
the  navigation  of  the  Sound  was  then  rather  perilous,  owing  to  the 
masses  of  ice  with  which  it  was  obstructed. 

As  there  was  then  only  one  train  a  day  for  the  West,  and  as  for 
the  first  forty  miles  two  railways  were  blended  into  one,  the  busde 
and  confusion  which  occurred  at  the  station  before  starting  are  pcr- 
fecdy  indescribable.  Every  body  was  getting  into  the  wrong  "  car," 
and  every  body's  luggage  into  the  wrong  van.  At  length,  after  a 
hubbub,  which  would  have  been  more  amusing  had  it  been  less  in- 
tense, the  long  heavy  train  started  at  four  p.  m.  for  Worcester.  As  it 
is  my  intention,  in  a  future  chapter,  to  present  the  reader  with  a  gene- 
ral view  of  railways  and  railway  travelling  in  America,  I  shall  a^'void, 
at  present,  all  allusion  to  details  connected  with  them,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  a  brief  description  of  the  carriage  in  which  I  found  myself 
seated,  and  which  was  a  specimen  of  a  class  very  common  in  the 
United  States.  It  consisted  of  one  great  compartment  constructed  to 
accommodate  sixty  people.  It  was  like  a  small  church  upon  wheels. 
At  either  end  was  a  door  leading  to  a  railed  platform  in  the  open 
air;  from  door  to  door  stretched  a  narrow  aisle,  on  either  side  of 
which  was  a  row  of  seats,  wanting  only  book-boards  to  make  them 
look  exacUy  like  pews,  each  being  capable  of  seating  two  reason- 
ably sized  per.<;ons.  'J'he  car  was  so  lofty  that  the  tallest  man  pre- 
sent could  promenade  up  and  down  the  aisle  with  his  hat  on.  In 
winter,  two  or  three  scats  are  removed  from  one  side  to  make  way 
for  a  small  stove;  and  as  I  was  rather  late  in  taking  my  place,  the 
only  vacant  seat  I  could  find  was  one  on  the  pew  adjoining  this  por- 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  31 

tabic  firc-phcc.  My  immediate  companion  was  a  gentlemanly -look- 
ing man  under  forty  years  of  age,  a  loose  drab  coat  enveloping  his 
person,  and  a  bushy  fur  cap  covering  his  head.  Directly  opposite 
him  sat  a  lady  of  about  sixteen  stone  weight,  who  crushed  up  against 
the  side  of  the  car  a  gaunt  lanky  Vcrmonter,  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
render  me  apprehensive  that  she  would  occasion  involuntary  squirts 
of  the  tobacco  juice  which  he  was  industriously  distilling  from  his 
quid.  Her  travelling  stock  consisted  of  a  carpet-bag,  almost  as  plump 
and  bulky  as  herself,  which,  as  she  was  bringing  herself  to  a  com- 
fortable bearing,  she  consigned  to  the  safe  keeping  of  the  gentleman 
in  the  drab  coat.  The  poor  man  had  leisure  afterwards  to  repent  of 
the  preference  shown  him,  for  having  once  hoisted  it  upon  his  knee, 
the  owner,  although  she  constantly  kept  her  eye  fixed  upon  it,  never 
offered  to  remove  it.  He  could  not  put  it  on  the  floor,  which  was 
moist  with  expectoration ;  nor  could  he  put  it  on  the  stove,  which  was 
already  getting  red-hot.  He  had  no  alternative  but  to  carry  it  the 
whole  night  upon  his  knee:  but  then  the  ladies  are  used  to  such  at- 
tentions in  America.  I  had  no  reason  to  complain  so  long  as  I  was 
not  the  man  in  drab. 

Finding,  ere  long,  the  heat  of  the  stove  rather  uncomfortable,  I 
repaired  to  one  of  the  platforms  attached  to  the  car,  where,  for  some 
time,  I  enjoyed  myself  in  the  open  air,  smoking  a  cigar  and  observing 
the  country  through  which  we  passed.  It  was  as  level,  and,  in  a 
scenic  point  of  view,  as  uninteresting  as  marine  deposits,  of  which 
it  seems  to  be  a  specimen,  generally  are.  The  snow,  with  which  it 
was  then  covered,  gave  it  a  dreary  and  monotonous  aspect.  Here 
and  there  were  some  slight  undulations,  swelling  occasionally  into 
small  hillocks,  crowned  with  stunted  evergreens,  the  most  luxuriant 
growth  of  the  arid  sandy  soil.  It  is  well  cleared,  and  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Worcester  affords  considerable  pasturage.  Every  now 
and  then  we  came  up  with  a  neat  little  village,  the  houses  of  which, 
from  their  colour,  were  scarcely  distinguishable  from  the  snow ;  the 
churches,  too,  with  their  trim  wooden  spires,  being  painted  white  to 
their  very  weathercocks.  If  any  thing  were  wanting  to  prove  the 
indomitable  spirit  of  the  pilgrim-band  who,  a  little  more  than  two 
centuries  ago,  laid  the  foundation  of  the  Transatlantic  empire,  it 
would  be  found  in  the  very  character  of  the  soil  on  which  their  first 
efforts  were  so  successfully  expended.  Instead  of  seeking  the  rich 
alluvial  tracts,  which  might  yield  them  plenty  without  the  previous 
penalty  of  toil,  or  the  luxuriant  savannahs  of  the  south,  where  the 
gaudy  magnolia  perfumed  the  air  and  the  wild  vine  infertrellised  with 
the  honeysuckle,  they  planted  themselves  in  a  high  latitude,  on  a 
scanty  soil,  contented  to  labour,  so  long  as  their  consciences  were 
left  free.  Their  landinir-place  was  a  rock,  flanked  on  one  side  by 
the  ocean,  and  on  the  other  by  a  succession  of  sandy  plains.  What 
could  be  more  cheerless  than  their  prospects?     Yet,  by  unceasing 


32  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

and  patient  {oil,  tlicy  soon  converted  their  unpromising  heritage  into 
a  garden,  along  the  surface  of  which  thriving  communities  sprung 
up,  as  if  by  magic;  and,  like  a  germ  of  indestructible  vitality,  from 
which  emanates  the  future  giant  of  the  forest,  soon  expanded  into 
that  great  social  and  political  system,  which,  in  its  colossal  strides, 
threatens  ere  long  to  monopolize  the  continent. 

I  had  not  been  long  engaged  in  such  reflections,  when  from  the 
next  car,  the  platform  of  which  adjoined  that  on  which  I  was  stand- 
ing, emerged  the  "conductor,"  alias  the  check-taker — who  is,  in 
America,  a  peripatetic,  instead  of,  as  with  us,  a  stationary  function- 
ary. Having  received  my  ticket,  he  was  about  entering  the  car 
which  I  had  just  quitted,  when  he  stopped  short,  and  without  speak- 
ing a  word,  eyed  me  for  a  monient,  as  if  he  took  a  great  interest  in 
ine.  At  length,  having  permitted  his  quid  to  change  sides  in  his 
mouth,  he  observed,  in  a  tone  which  brooked  not  of  contradiction, 
that  it  was  "tarnation  cold."  To  this  I  readily  assented;  when, 
finding  me  of  a  communicative  disposition,  he  offered  me  his  tobacco- 
box,  and  inquired  if  I  preferred  standing  where  I  was  to  being  seated 
within. 

"  'Tis  but  a  poor  choice  between  being  frozen  and  being  roasted,'* 
I  observed. — He  looked  at  me  again,  as  if  he  questioned  my  judg- 
ment, and  then  said — 

"You're  a  stranger  in  these  parts,  I  reckon."  I  replied  that  I 
was;  and,  to  avoid  questions,  continued,  that  I  had  arrived  that  very 
day  by  the  "  Hibernia,"  after  a  very  boisterous  passage;  that  I  was 
cm  my  way  to  New  York,  whence  I  intended  to  proceed  further 
south,  and  after  seeing  the  country,  to  return  to  Europe  before  the 
close  of  the  year.  All  this  he  received  with  great  apathy,  and  then 
intimated  that  he  was  merely  acting  the  part  of  a  friend  in  telling  me 
that  I  would  be  safer  inside. 

"Is  there  any  danger?"  inquired  I. 

"Supposing  there  was  to  be  an  accident,"  said  he,  "you  wouldn't 
stand  no  chance  here." 

"Do  they  frequendy  occur  with  you?"  I  demanded  somewhat 
hastily. 

"  We  do  sometimes  run  off  the  rail,  that's  all;"  said  he,  without 
t!ie  slightest  emotion;  and  then  passed  into  the  car  without  deigning 
to  know  how  I  received  the  announcement.  There  was  but  a  pitiful 
choice,  certainly,  between  an  instantaneous  crush  to  death,  and  a 
.'^low  broil  l)y  the  stove;  but  preferring  the  latter,  I  repaired  to  my 
j>lace,  and  submitted  to  it  until  the  train  reached  Worcester.  The 
.shades  of  night  had,  by  this  time,  deepened  around  us;  and  the 
merry  lights  which  twinkled  from  the  windows,  and  gleamed  upon 
the  snow,  told  of  comfort  within,  whatever  might  be  the  rigour  of 
tho  season  without.  'I'he  chief  object  of  interest — a  melancholy  in- 
terest— in  Worcester,  is  the  Lunatic  Asylum;  a  State  Establishment, 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  3o 

Inrjre,  commodious,  admirably  regulated,  and,  alas!  but  loo  replete 
with  inmates.  So  much,  however,  has  already  been  written  and 
circulated  concerning  them,  that  it  is  unnecessary  for  me  here  to 
dwell  upon  the  nature  and  regulations  of  the  different  establishments 
to  which  the  crimes  and  the  misfortunes  of  society  in  America  give 
rise. 

For  some  minutes  it  appeared  to  me  as  if  the  Bedlam  hard  by  had 
been  let  loose  upon  the  station,  or  depot,  as  it  is  universally  called 
in  America.  To  give  a  true  picture  of  the  confusion — the  rushing 
to  and  fro — and  the  noise,  with  which  all  this  was  accompanied,  is 
impossible.  Some  pounced  upon  the  refreshment-room,  as  if  they 
fancied  it  the  up-train,  and  in  danger  of  an  immediate  start;  others 
flew  about,  frantically  giving  orders,  which  there  was  no  one  to  obey; 
whilst  by  far  the  greater  number  were  assuring  themselves  of  the 
safety  of  their  baggage.  This  was  very  necessary,  inasmuch  as  the 
line  here  branched  off  into  two;  the  one  proceeding  to  x\lbany,  and 
the  other  to  Norwich,  en  route  to  New  York.  It  is  by  no  means 
an  uncommon  thing  for  a  passenger  to  find,  at  his  journey's  end, 
that  his  luggage  has,  from  this  point,  taken  an  independent  course  for 
itself,  pursuing  the  shortest  road  to  the  far-west,  whilst  its  owner  is 
on  his  way  south,  or  vice  versa.  This  sometimes  arises  from  the 
luggage  being  put  into  the  wrong  van,  and  at  others  from  the  vans 
themselves  being  put  upon  the  wrong  lines.  Sometimes  the  separa- 
tions are  most  heart-rending — husbands  and  wives,  parents  and 
children,  being  sent  off  in  different  directions.  I  found  afterwards 
that  this  was  the  case  with  a  lady  in  the  carriage  immediately  behind 
that  in  which  I  sat.  She  had  been  torn  both  from  her  husband  and 
her  bandbox.  She  had  no  concern  about  the  former,  as  she  said  he 
knew  how  to  take  care  of  himself;  but  her  new  velvet  bonnet,  oh ! 

She  consoled  herself  by  abusing  the  conductor,  who  bore  it 

meekly  for  some  time,  but  was  at  last  goaded  into  telling  her  that 
that  was  not  the  way  in  which  to  treat  a  gentleman,  and  that  she  had 
no  business  to  get  into  the  wrong  train;  from  which  he  derived  but 
little  satisfaction,  as  she  insisted  the  whole  way,  that  it  was  the  train 
that  was  going  wrong. 

Detached  from  the  Albany  train,  we  were  soon  on  our  way  to 
Norwich,  led  thither  by  an  asthmatic  locomotive,  which  went  wheez- 
ing and  pufllng  along  at  the  rate  of  twelve  miles  an  hour  over  the 
slippery  rails.  Although  nearly  threescore  people  were  packed 
closely  together,  the  utmost  silence  pervaded  the  car.  Everyone 
seemed  as  if  he  were  brooding  over  some  terrible  secret,  w^ith  which 
he  would  burst  if  he  dared.  The  fat  lady  was  already  asleep,  her 
unfortunate  neighbour  still  patienUy  nursing  her  carpet-bag.  One 
after  another  the  company  dropped  into  temporary  forgetfulness,  and 
before  we  had  been  an  hour  from  Worcester  two-thirds  of  them  were 
asleep.     The  heads  of  some  rested  upon  their  hands,  those  of  others 


34  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

fell  upon  their  shoulders,  whilst  those  of  others  ni^ain  dropped  upon 
their  chests.  A  solitary  lamp  burned  at  one  end  of  the  car,  and  it 
was  interesting  to  watch  the  revelations  of  character  which  it  afforded, 
as  its  sickly  light  fell  upon  the  faces  of  the  sleepers.  Some  snored, 
others  whistled  through  their  noses,  whilst  others  again  breathed 
gently  as  does  an  infant  in  its  cradle.  Some  were  open-mouthed, 
others  slumbered  with  knitted  brow  and  compressed  lip;  the  features 
of  some  remained  at  rest,  whilst  these  of  others  were  occasionally 
distorted  with  pain,  convulsed  with  passion,  or  agitated  by  some 
troublesome  episode  in  a  dream.  Here  a  countenance  bespoke  grief, 
there  disappointment;  the  faces  of  most,  however,  being  lined  with 
premature  anxieties  and  care.  Sometimes,  as  the  train  violently 
oscillated,  the  different  heads  would  jerk  about  as  if  they  were  being 
thrown  at  each  other,  or  were  going  right  out  through  the  windows. 
Every  now  and  then  a  sleeper,  half  choked  with  his  quid,  would 
start  up  with  convulsive  cough,  clench  his  teeth  on  the  offending 
tobacco,  and  relapse  into  slumber.  Afier  a  while  the  scene  became 
oppressive  to  me;  I  was  then  the  only  one  awake,  and  felt,  as  I 
glanced  at  the  different  faces  around  me,  as  if  I  was  taking  un  unfair 
advantage  of  their  unconscious  owners,  and  surreptitiously  possessing 
myself  of  their  secrets.  Besides,  the  company  of  sleepers  is  a 
powerful  opiate,  nor  was  I  long  in  feeling  its  influence,  which,  aided 
by  the  hot  stifling  air  within  the  car,  soon  numbered  me  amongst 
them.  I  recollect  dreaming  that  1  had,  through  great  interest,  been 
appointed  to  the  cookship  in  cliief  of  the  Reform  Club;  and  that  my 
first  business,  as  the  successor  of  the  immortal  Soyer,  was  personally 
to  turn  the  spit  before  the  largest  fire  in  his  well-regulated  Pande- 
monium. I  awoke  in  an  agony  of  perspiration,  and  found  the  stove, 
which  was  within  three  feet  of  me,  red  hot.  I  could  bear  this  spe- 
cies of  torture  no  longer,  and,  determined  to  run  all  risks,  immedi- 
ately sought  refuge  in  the  fresh  air. 

It  was  a  beautiful  starlight  night,  the  deep  blue  of  the  sky  looking 
almost  black  in  contrast  with  the  snow  which  lay  thick  upon  the 
ground.  The  train  whisked  over  the  face  of  the  country  like  a  huge 
over-ponderous  rocket,  the  wood-fire  of  the  engine  throwing  up  a 
shower  of  sparks  which  spread  into  a  broad  golden  wake  behind  us. 
On  the  platform  of  the  adjoining  car  I  found  a  fellow-traveller,  who, 
like  myself,  had  sought  refuge  from  the  heat.  Our  mutual  sympathy 
for  fresh  air  soon  led  us  into  conversation,  during  which  I  inquired 
of  him  as  to  the  general  character  and  social  position  of  those  who 
journeyed  along  with  us. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "you  see,  as  to  position,  they  are  much  of  a 
muchness;  but  some  do  one  thing,  and  some  another;  some  are 
farmers,  wlio  have  been  to  Bosting  to  sell  shoes — some  are  mer- 
chants from  the  west,  who  have  also  been  to  that  ere  city  for  winter 
stock — some  do  nothin'  that  nobody  knows  on,  but  manage  to  make 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  3o 

a  i^enllemanly  livin'  on  it:  and  some  are  spekelators,  who  have  been 
to  the  east  to  do  a  stroke  of  business;  I'm  a  spekelator  myself,  but 
none  of  your  dubitatious  sort;  I've  lots  for  sale  in  Milwaukic,  and 
Chicas^o — if  you  do  any  thing  in  that  line,  stranger,  I'm  your  man." 

Having  assured  him  that  I  had  no  intention  of  becoming  a  landed 
proprietor  on  Lake  Michigan,  or  elsewhere,  I  begged  him  to  explain 
that  portion  of  his  harangue  which  connected  farmers  with  dealings 
in  shoes.  1  had  heard  much  of  the  fertility  of  the  American  soil, 
but  was  not  aware  that  such  articles  ranked  among  its  products. 

"Why,  our  people,"  said  he,  "can  turn  their  hand  a'most  to  any 
thing,  from  whippin'  the  universe  to  stuffin'  a  mosquito.  These 
'ere  New  England  farmers,  you  see,  farm  it  in  the  summer  time, 
but  their  poor  sile  givin'  them  nothin'  to  do  in  the  winter,  they  take 
to  it  in-doors,  and  work  for  months  at  the  last.  They  sell  their 
shoes  in  Bosting  for  home  consumption,  and  to  send  to  Europe, 
Chainy,  and  South  Ameriky." 

I  had  scarcely  received  this  piece  of  information,  as  to  the  winter 
occupation  of  New  England  farmers,  when  we  suddenly  came  to  a 
halt,  under  a  sort  of  shed,  which  I  was  informed  was  the  Norwich 
station.  We  were  still  eight  miles  from  Alleyn's  Point,  where  we 
were  to  take  the  steamer,  and  were  soon  informed  by  the  conductor 
that  we  must  stop  at  Norwich  until  news  of  her  arrival  should  reach 
us.  I  could  not  exactly  see  the  advantage  of  stopping  for  such  a 
purpose — eight  miles  from  the  coast — but  was  obliged  to  swallow 
my  disappointment.  The  truth  was,  that  the  Sound  was  so  ob- 
structed with  ice,  that,  for  the  last  two  days,  no  steamer  had  ventured 
down  from  New  York;  and  it  was  on  the  mere  chance  of  finding 
one  that  night  to  take  us.  up  to  town,  that  we  were  trundled  off  from 
Boston. 

As  we  might  be  detained  till  morning,  we  all  scrambled  to  the 
nearest  hotels  to  secure  sleeping  quarters  for  the  night.  Alas!  not 
only  was  every  hotel  full  to  overflowing,  but  there  was  not,  in  the 
whole  town,  a  spare  bed  to  be  had  for  love  or  money.  The  passen- 
gers by  the  trains  of  the  two  previous  days  were  still  close  prisoners 
in  Norwich,  as  were  also  those  who  had  arrived  during  the  same 
period  to  proceed  by  the  Long  Island  railway.  Here,  then,  were 
upwards  of  a  thousand  persons  suddenly  added  to  the  population  of 
a  small  town,  creating  a  demand  for  pillows  and  mattresses,  for  which 
the  supply  was  any  thing  but  adequate. 

After  a  patient  but  unsuccessful  search  for  a  bed,  I  returned  to  the 
hotel  nearest  the  station,  where  I  found  most  of  my  fellow-unfortu- 
nates in  noisy  assemblage  convened,  venting  their  imprecations 
against  the  railway  company,  whom  they  held  responsible  for  all  the 
annoyances  of  the  journey.  Every  body  was  sure  that  every  body 
had  an  action  at  law  against  the  directors;  and  if  every  body  had 
been  any  body  else  but  himself,  he  would  have  had  no  hesitation  in 
testing  the  point. 


36  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

It  was  fortunate  for  us  that  the  hotel  was  not  unprovided  with 
edibles.  Wliilst  supper  was  being  prepared,  we  were  huddled  into 
a  small  apartment,  which  did  duly  as  an  antechamber  to  a  room 
behind  it,  fitted  up  as  a  bar-room,  in  which  the  more  noisy  of  the 
company  had  congregated,  discussing  gin-sling  and  politics,  and  the 
prospects  more  immediately  before  them.  When  supper  was  an- 
nounced, the  race  for  seats  was  appalling.  Being  near  the  door,  I 
was  pushed  in  without  any  eflbrt  of  my  own,  and  was  among  the 
first  to  be  accommodated  with  a  seat.  There  was  plenty,  enough  for 
the  most  craving  appetites,  and  sufllicient  variety  to  meet  any  con- 
ceivable eccentricity  of  taste.  The  bacon  and  ham  were  good;  but 
ludicrous  in  the  extreme  were  the  attempts  at  chop,  and  the  faint 
imitations  of  steak.  There  were  several  varieties  of  fish,  including 
oysters,  which  latter  were  boiled  into  a  sort  of  black  broth ;  there 
were  innumerable  sweets  and  sweetmeats,  fowl  in  every  mode  of 
preparation,  very  white  bread  and  very  black  bread,  Indian  corn 
prepared  in  half-a-dozen  different  ways,  with  tea  and  coffee,  beer, 
and  every  variety  of  spirituous  liquor.  We  were  all  very  hungry, 
and  for  some  minutes  forgot  our  annoyances  in  appeasing  our  appe- 
tites, the  episode  winding  up  by  each  man  paying  half  a  dollar  to  a 
sallow-looking  sentry  in  yellow  shirt-sleeves,  who  stood  at  the  door 
to  receive  it. 

Such  as  were  so  inclined  now  disposed  of  themselves  for  sleep. 
The  ponderous  but  very  comfortable  arm-chairs,  which  invariably 
form  the  chief  feature  in  the  garniture  of  an  American  tap-room,  were 
immediately  appropriated,  as  were  also  the  chairs  and  tables  in  the 
adjoining  rooms.  Some  laid  themselves  down  upon  the  floor,  with 
billets  of  wood  for  their  pillows.  I  had  luckily  been  able  to  seize 
upon  a  chair,  and  sat  for  some  time  musing  upon  the  strangeness  of 
my  position.  On  my  left  sat  a  large  burly  man,  about  forty,  in  the 
attire  of  a  farmer,  and  who,  like  myself,  seemed  indisposed  to  slum- 
ber. He  chewed  with  unusual  vehemence  ;  and  my  attention  was 
first  attracted  to  him  by  the  unerring  certainty  with  which  he  expec- 
torated over  one  of  them,  into  a  spittoon,  which  lay  between  two 
sleepers  on  the  floor.  He  occasionally  varied  his  amusement  by 
directing  his  filthy  distillations  against  the  stove,  from  the  hot  side 
of  which  they  sometimes  glanced  with  the  report  of  a  pistol.  By 
and  by  we  got  into  conversation,  when  I  discovered  that  he  was 
from  the  Granite  State,  as  New  Hampshire  is  called,  and  that  he 
was  on  his  way  to  Oregon,  via  New  York  and  Cape  Horn,  a  dis- 
tance of  15,000  miles,  but  of  which  he  seemed  to  make  very  light. 
His  only  trouble  was,  that  he  would  be  too  late  for  the  ship,  which 
was  to  sail  on  the  following  day.  I  observed,  that  in  that  case  his 
disappointment  must  be  very  great,  inasmuch  as  many  weeks  must 
elapse  ere  a  similar  opportunity  again  presented  itself  to  him.  He 
assured  me  that  it  would  be  very  trifling,  for  he  had  made  up  his 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  37 

mind,  since  he  h.id  supped,  sliould  lie  miss  the  sliip,  to  "go  west" 
to  "  Illinois  State."  1  was  astonished  at  the  faciUty  and  apparent 
indifference  with  which  he  abandoned  the  one  purpose  for  the  other. 
But  it  is  this  flexibiUty  of  character  that  is  at  the  very  foundation  of 
American  enterprise.  Let  your  genuine  Yankee  find  one  path  im- 
practicable, and  he  turns  directly  into  another,  in  pursuing  which  he 
never  permits  his  energies  to  be  crippled  by  futile  lamentations  over 
past  disappointments. 

About  five  in  the  morning  we  were  once  more  put  in  motion  by 
the  welcome  intelligence  that  a  steamer  had  arrived,  and  was  in 
wailing  for  us  at  Alleyn's  Point.  We  embarked  about  seven  o'clock 
some  miles  above  the  mouth  of  the  River  Thames.  The  mornino" 
was  bri2:ht  and  cold,  and  we  had  a  keen  cuttins:  breeze  in  our  faces 
as  we  dropped  down  towards  the  Sound.  We  stopped  for  some 
minutes  to  take  in  passengers  at  New  London,  one  of  the  seaport 
towns  of  Connecticut,  very  prettily  situated  on  the  right  bank  of 
the  river,  close  to  its  junction  with  the  Sound.  On  the  opposite 
bank  is  a  tall  obelisk,  raised  to  the  memory  of  some  Americans, 
who  are  said  to  have  been  treacherously  massacred,  durino-  the  re- 
volutionary  war,  by  a  troop  of  British  soldiers.  W^hilst  looking 
at  this,  two  men,  who  were  on  deck,  advanced  and  stopped  within 
a  pace  or  two  of  me.  The  elder,  and  spokesman  of  the  two,  was 
about  forty-five  years  of  age,  and  was  dressed  in  a  long  overcoat, 
Avhich  was  unbuttoned,  and  hung  very  slovenly  down  to  his  heels. 
He  stooped,  not  at  the  shoulders,  but  from  the  stomach;  whilst  his 
sallow  face  was  furrowed  like  a  newly  ploughed  field.  His  lips 
were  thin  to  a  degree,  his  mouth  being  marked  but  by  a  sharp  short 
line ;  and  when  he  looked  at  you,  it  was  with  nervous  and  uneasy 
glances,  furtively  shot  from  beneath  a  pair  of  shaggy  half-gray  eye- 
brows. His  expression  was  malignant,  his  tout  ensemble  repulsive. 
I  instinctively  turned  away  from  him,  but  it  seems  I  was  not  to 
escape,  for,  having  brought  me,  as  he  thought,  within  hearing  dis- 
tance, he  muttered /o  his  companion,  but  evidently  a^  me — "Yes, 
there's  a  moniment  raised  to  the  eternal  shame  of  the  bloody  Bri- 
tishers; but  we'll  take  the  change  out  of  them  for  that  yet,  or 
Colonel  Polk's  not  my  man!"  I  looked  at  him,  mechanically, 
as  he  uttered  these  words.  He  stood  between  me  and  his  com- 
panion, as  motionless  as  a  statue,  his  eye,  which  turned  neither  to 
the  right  nor  to  the  left,  apparently  fixed  on  the  distant  shore  of 
Long  Island,  but  with  ears  erect,  in  evident  expectation  of  some 
rejoinder  to  this  flattering  harangue.  Deeming  it  more  prudent  to 
make  none,  I  turned  away  and  paced  the  deck,  which  I  had  the 
satisfaction  of  perceiving  caused  him  no  litde  disappointment.  He 
was  one  of  the  few  in  the  seaboard  and  commercial  States,  who 
had  been  seized  with  the  Oregon  mania;  and  so  powerfully  did  the 
yoL.  I. — 4 


38 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 


poison  operate  upon  him,  that  it  was  with  (Jifliculty  he  could  keep 
from  biting-. 

On  Icavinfr  New  London,  a  few  minutes  sufTiced  to  bring  us  to 
tlie  Pound,  the  shore  of  Jiong  Island  beinir  dimly  visible  to  the 
southward.  Its  waters  were  then  smootli  and  glassy:  but,  sheltered 
and  land-locked  though  it  be,  the  Sound  is  sometimes  the  scene  of 
the  most  terrific  and  disastrous  tempests.  Our  steamer  was  not 
one  of  the  floating  palaces  which  usually  ply  on  these  waters ;  and, 
being  neither  more  nor  less  than  the  ferry-boat  connecting  Long 
Island  with  the  mainland,  presented  us  with  none  of  the  accommo- 
dations generally  found  on  this  route.  A  more  unshaven-looking 
crew,  therefore,  than  sat  down  to  breakfast,  can  hardly  be  imagined. 
The  majority  of  beards  were  of  thirty-six  hours'  growth;  and  it 
was  amusing  to  witness  the  degree  to  which  each  had  taken  advan- 
tage of  its  accidental  immunity.  Some  merely  peered  through  the 
skin,  others  were  wildly  luxuriant.  Some  were  light,  some  dark, 
some  utterly  black,  some  red,  some  sandy,  and  some  had  a  smack 
of  blue  in  them.  The  ladies,  who  had  come  aboard  at  New  Lon- 
don, kept  as  shy  of  us  as  if  we  had  escaped  from  Worcester. 

After  breakfast  I  seated  myself  by  the  stove  and  commenced 
reading,  but  had  been  thus  engaged  only  a  few  minutes,  when  I 
was  accosted  by  a  stout  short  elderly  gendeman,  dressed  in  snulf- 
coloured  cloth  from  head  to  foot,  who  made  me  his  confidant  so  far 
as  to  inform  me,  that  we  had  been  very  lucky  in  getting  a  boat. 
Having  nothing  to  object  to  so  obvious  a  proposition,  1  categorically 
assented,  in  the  hope  of  being  able  to  resume  my  book.  But  in 
this  I  was  disappointed,  for  he  was  soon  joined  by  a  middle-aged 
man,  with  a  very  self-sufficient  expression,  who  asked  me — 

"Didn't  our  Prez'dent's  message  put  the  old  Lion's  back  up?" 

The  steamer  by  which  I  had  arrived  being  the  first  that  had  left 
Liverpool  after  the  receipt  in  England  of  the  President's  warlike 
message,  the  most  intense  interest  was  manifested  on  all  hands  to 
know  the  eflect  which  it  had  produced  in  Europe.  I,  therefore, 
replied — "Considerably." 

"  We  expected  it  would  rile  him  a  bit— rayther  — we  did;"  added 

he. 

"Didn't  it  frighten  hiin  a  leetle?"  asked  the  gentleman  in  snull- 

colour. 

"As  an  Englisliman,  I  would  fain  be  spared  the  humiliating  con- 
fession," replied  1;  "particularly  as  the  whole  will  be  published  in 
the  papers,  in  the  course  of  a  few  hours." 

This,  as  I  expected,  only  made  them  the  more  curious.  The 
first  speaker  returned  to  the  charge,  urging  me  to  let  them  know 
what  had  taken  jdace,  and  advising  me,  at  the  same  time,  that  I 
niifrht  consitler  myself  amongst  friends;  and  that  the  Americans 
were  not  a  "crowin'  people." 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  89 

"Well,  gentlemen,"  said  I;  "if  you  can  sympatliizc  wllli  a  fallen 
enemy,  I  iiave  no  objection  to  speak  plainly  with  you."  Tiiey 
shook  their  heads  affirmatively,  and  showed,  by  drawing  closer  to, 
that  they  really  meant  kindly  towards  me. 

"The  publication  of  the  Message,"  I  continued,  "was  all  that 
Avas  necessary  to  shake  to  its  foundation  the  European  setdement 
of  1815.  Prince  Metternich  immediately  dismissed  Reis  Effendi 
across  the  Balkan.  M.  Guizot  notified  Abd-el-Kader  that  the  triple 
alliance  was  at  an  end;  whilst  England,  in  alarm,  threw  herself 
into  the  hands  of  Russia,  entering  into  an  alliance  offensive  and  de- 
tensive  with  that  power;  and,  as  a  guarantee  of  good  faith,  giving 
up  the  temporary  possession  of  Tilbury  Fort  to  the  Autocrat,  whose 
troops  now  garrison  the  key  of  the  Thames." 

"Is  diat  the  way  the  British  Lion  took  the  lash  of  'Young  Hick- 
ory?' "  asked  the  first  speaker;  "Well,  I  swan — " 

"He  needn't  have  been  scared  in  such  a  hurry,  neither,"  said 
die  gentleman  in  snuff-colour;  "for  maybe  we  didn't  mean  it  after 
all." 

"The  Lion  must  liave  been  considerably  scared,"  added  I,  "thus 
to  seek  protection  from  the  bear." 

Both  gentlemen  hereupon  looked  at  each  other,  pressed  their  lips, 
shook  their  heads,  and  unbuttoned  their  coats,  that  they  might 
breathe  tlie  more  freely;  and,  after  regarding  me  for  some  time 
with  an  air  of  evident  compassion,  turned  suddenly  round,  and 
graciously  left  me  to  my  own  reflections.  They  were  soon  the 
centre  of  a  group  of  eager  listeners,  to  whom  they  detailed  the  im- 
portant news  which  they  had  just  heard. 

"Well,  I  declare!"  I  overheard  the  snuff-coloured  gentleman  say, 
"but  we  air  a  greater  people  than  I  thought  for!" 

"I  know'd  it,"  said  a  long  Yardvee  from  Maine;  "we're  born  to 
whip  universal  nature.  The  Europeans  can't  hold  a  candle  to  us 
already,  e'en  a'most" 

"We  have  certainly,"  continued  the  snuff-coloured  gentleman, 
thoughtfully,  "done  what  Napoleon  himself  couldn't  do.  We  have 
introduced  foreign  troops  into  England.  The  mere  wag  of  our 
President's  tonoue  has  garrisoned  her  greatest  fort  with  Cossacks 
and  Rooshians." 

Such  of  my  American  fsllow-voyaofers  bv  die  "Hibcrnia"  as 
overheard  the  conversation  enjoyed  it  greatly,  as  indeed  did  most 
of  those  who  were  within  reach  of  our  voice,  who  were  amused  at 
the  gullibility  of  the  two  elderly  gentlemen. 

The  truth  is,  that  the  more  belligerent  of  the  American  people 
imairined  that  the  President's  messafje  was  sure  to  set  the  old  v/orld 
in  a  flame,  and  were  mortified  beyond  measure  on  ascertaining  the 
litde  impression  whicli  it  had  really  produced. 

As  we  approached  the  city,  the  Sound  gradually  narrowed,  and 


40  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

■\vlien  near  Hurl  Gate,  a  strailened  passno-c  tlirongli  wliich  tlie  water 
rushes  at  some  periods  of  the  tide  witli  a  velocity  which  renders 
its  navig-ation  rather  hazardous,  we  hecame  fairly  imbedded  in  ice, 
which,  broken  into  masses  of  various  sizes,  completely  covered  the 
surface  of  the  water,  and  through  which  it  was  with  extreme  diffi- 
culty that  we  made  our  way.  Mass  after  mass  grated  along  the 
sides  of  the  boat,  and  then  went — crunch — crunch — under  the  lusty 
paddle-wlicels,  coming  up,  broken  in  piecemeal  in  our  wake.  It 
was  long  dark  ere  we  reached  the  city.  Light  after  light  first  ap- 
peared upon  our  right,  then  on  our  left,  then  before,  and  finally  all 
around  us,  as  we  became  gradually  environed  by  the  city  and  its 
insular  suburbs.  It  was  with  difliculty  we  groped  our  way  along- 
side one  of  the  crowded  wharves.  The  long  terraces  of  shops  and 
warehouses,  which  skirted  the  harbour,  presented  one  continuous 
blaze  of  light;  and  from  the  multitude  of  figures  which  flitted 
rapidly  to  and  fro,  it  would  have  been  evident,  had  other  tokens 
been  wanting,  that  we  were  about  to  land  in  a  great  and  bustling 
city.  Eight  o'clock  was  tolling  from  the  nearest  steeple  as  1  stepped 
ashore;  and  immediately,  from  spire  to  spire,  on  all  sides,  the  hour 
rang  merrily  through  the  keen  night  air.  I  jumped  into  a  sleigli, 
and,  in  less  than  an  hour's  time,  was  oblivious  of  all  my  fatigues  in 
a  comfortable  room  in  tlie  second  story  of  the  Astor  House. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

NEW    YORK,    ITS     SITUATION    AND    ENVIRONS. 

Position  of  the  City. — Its  great  Commercial  Advantages.— Bird's-eye  View 
of  its  Situation  and  Environs. — Description  of  the  City. — The  Battery. — 
Broadvvay. — Fires  in  New  York. — The  Paik. — Hotels. — Theatres. — Tam- 
many Hall.— The  City  Hall.— 'JTie  Five  Points.— Plan  of  the  Future  City.— 
Pigs  and  their  Immunities. — The  Port  (East  River  Side.)— Brooklyn. — 
The  Old  City.— Wall  Street —'ihe  Merchant's  Exchange.— The  Custom- 
House. — Trinity  Church.— The  Port  on  the  Hudson. — Steamers.— Small 
Craft. — The  (^uays. — The  Great  Aqueduct.— Gaiety  of  INew  York. — 
Churches. — Its  Political  Influence. — Banks,  &c. — Growth  of  the  City. — 
Its  Destiny. 

Before  proceeding  to  describe  the  city  itself,  it  may  not  be  amiss 
first  to  give  a  brief  sketch  of  its  siuiation  and  environs. 

Situated  on  the  Atlantic,  New  York  is  complcU'ly  sheltered  from 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  41 

ils  turbulence  by  a  group  of  intervening  islands,  wliieli  screen  the 
ocean  from  its  view.     Its  only  water  prospect  is  that  aflurded  to  it 
by  tlie  noble  bay  into  which  it  projects.     Nothing  can  surpass  the 
security  of  its   position,  or  the   safety  and  practicability  of  its   ap- 
proaches.    It  stands,  the  insulated  centre  of  a  spacious  and  varied 
panorama ;  the  objects  which  contribute,  by  their  combination,  to 
render  its  position  exquisitely  picturesque,  also  serving,  in  a  double 
sense,  as  a  security  to  it,  inasmuch  as  they  protect  it  from  the  tur- 
bulence of  the  ocean,  and  defend  it  from  the  attacks  of  a  hostile 
power-     Thus,  in  beautifying  and  enriching  its  prospect,  nature  has 
sacrificed  nothing  essential  to  its  position  as  a  great  maritime  town. 
The  Hudson  river,  after  running  a  lengthened  course,  due  north 
and  south,  expands,  about  forty  miles  above  its  embouchure,  into  a 
spacious  estuary,  designated   by  the  Dutch  colonists  the  Tappan 
Zee.     The  western  or  New  Jersey  shore  of  this  estuary,  after 
Minning  a  considerable  distance  further  to  the  south  than  the  oppo- 
site bank,  takes  a  long  sweep  to  the  eastward,  terminalino-  in  the 
heifrhts  of  Neversink,  on  the   Atlantic.     The  east  or  New  York 
bank  ruhs  parallel  with  the  other,  until  it  abruptly   terminates  at 
the  Battery,  which  is  the  most  southerly  point  of  the  citv.     Here 
liie  river  and  Atlantic  would  immediately  unite,  but  for  the  inter- 
vention of  the  islands  already  alluded  to,  which,  from  their  position, 
form  a  spacious  bay,  into  which  the  estuary  merges.     This  bay  is 
jbrmcd  partl}^  by  the  coast  of  New  Jersey  on  the  west;  partly  by 
Staten   Island,  which  lies  between  the  city  and  that  portion  of  the 
New  Jersey  coast  already  described  as  stretching  to  the  eastward  ; 
and  partly  by  the  western  extremity  of  Long  Island,  which  is  sepa- 
rated from   the  town  by  a  ferry  scarcely  so  wide  as   that  between 
Liverpool  and  Birkenhead.     Towards  the  south-east,  and  between 
Long  Island  and  Staten  Island,  are  the  Narrows,  the  principal  pas- 
sage to  and  from  the  ocean  ;  but  the  one  island  slightly  overlapping 
t'le  other,  the  Atlantic,  which  is  from  fifteen  to  Iv/enty  miles  dis- 
tant, is  not  seen  from  the  city.     New  York  stands  upon  a  lono- 
j)rojecting  tongue  of  land,  running  southward  into  the  bay,  having 
the  estuary  of  the  Hudson,  with  the  opposite  coast  of  New  Jersey, 
on  the  west;  the  narrow  channel,  called  the  East  River,  separating 
it  from  Long  Island,  on  the  east;  and  the  spacious  expanse  of  the 
bay,  with  the  undidating    shore    of  Staten  Island,  on  the  south. 
This  tongue  of  land,  which  is  of  the  average  width  of  about  two 
miles,  is,  in  reality,  an  island;  a  short  narrow  strait,  called  the 
Ilarlaem  river,  uniting  the  Hudson  with  the  East  river,  and  thus 
separating  it  from  the  mainland  about  thirteen  miles  above  its  most 
southerly  point — the  Battery.    Independently  of  the  Harlaem  river, 
which  is  of  little  or  no  advantage  in  a  commercial  point  of  view, 
the  site  on  which  the  city  stands  is  washed  on  three  sides  by  water, 
deep  and  navigable  to  the  very  shore.     The  bulk  of  the  citv  occu- 

4* 


42  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

pies  the  southern  extremity  of  the  island,  where  its  foundations 
were  first  laid,  that  being  the  point  nearest  to  the  Atlantic,  and  the 
centre  of  the  bay.     It  is  now  densely  built  from  side  to  side  of  the 
island,  that  is  to  say,  from  the  Hudson  to  the  East  river,  extending^ 
northward  for  upwards  of  three  miles,  for  the  greater  portion  of 
which  distance   it  is  almost   as   compact  as   London   is   between 
Cheapside  and  the  Thames,  or  Glasgow  between  the  Trongate  and 
the  Clyde.     The  whole  island  is  comprised  within  the  limits  of  the 
city,  although  but  one-fourth  of  it  is  yet  built  upon.     It  is  already 
planned  and  laid  out,   however,  t>om  the  Battery  to  the  Harlaem 
river.     That  it  will  cover  this  whole  distance  one  day,  there  can 
be  no  doubt.     It  can  only  expand  in  one   direction — northward. 
The  rapidity  of  its  increase  will  be  afterwards  noticed.     When  the 
city  covers  the   island,  it  will  have  a  coast  of  twenty-six  miles  in 
length,  which  may  be  approached  in  all  parts  to  the  water's  edge 
by  vessels  of  the  largest  burden.     Already  the  port  extends  around 
the  city  for  a  distance  of  six  miles.     The  foreign  shipping,  or  that 
engaged  in  the  foreign  trade,  as  well  as  vessels  of  the  largest  class 
which  make  long  voyages  coastwise,  are  almost  all  accommodated 
at  the  quays  on  the  East  river  side  of  the  town;  those  which  line 
the  Hudson  side  being  generally  appropriated  to  inland  and  coasting 
steamers,  as  well  as  to  other  craft  engaged   in   the   inland  and 
coa-;ting  trade. 

The  advantafjes  of  the  commercial  position  of  New  York  are 
not  to  be  estimated  in  view  only  of  the  accommodation  and  sate 
harbourage  which  it  can  afford  to  every  class  of  shipping.  Its 
situation  relatively  to  a  large  section  of  the  continent  is  such  as  of 
necessity  to  constitute  it  one  of  the  greatest  commercial  emporiums 
of  America.  By  the  Hudson  River  and  the  canal  uniting  it  with 
Lake  Champlain,  it  can  hold  a  direct  intercourse  with  Canada,  and 
reach  the  great  lakes  in  the  upper  country,  though  by  a  circuitous 
route.  By  the  Hudson  River  and  the  Erie  Canal,  it  is  put  in 
direct  communication  with  the  great  lakes,  and  with  the  boundless 
and  fertile  grain-growing  region  which  surrounds  them,  including 
Western  New  York,  Canada  West,  and  all  of  one  and  the  greater 
portion  of  six  other  States  of  the  Union.  Once  on  the  lakes,  it  is 
easy  to  descend  into  the  valley  of  the  Mississippi,  the  valley  being 
connected  in  more  places  .than  one,  by  means  of  canals,  both  with 
the  lakes  and  the  Erie  Canal.  It  has  also  a  route  to  the  Missis- 
sippi by  the  New  Jersey  and  Pennsylvania  Canals.  With  the 
exception  of  the  great  valley  itself,  the  region  which  is  and  will 
continue  to  be  chiefly,  if  not  mainly,  dependent  upon  New  York  for 
its  supplies,  will  be,  as  it  now  is,  the  most  populous  in  the  Union  ; 
and,  as  will  be  afterwards  shown,  it  will  yet  share  greatly  with  the 
other  Atlantic  cities  and  New  Orleans  the  trade  of  the  vast  districts 
which  border  the   Upper  Mississippi  and  its  tributaries.     With  a 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  43 

harbour  spacious,  accessible,  and  convenient,  and  fully  equal,  in 
every  respect,  to  all  the  exigencies,  present  and  future,  of  so  com- 
manding a  commercial  position,  both  as  regards  foreign  and  inland 
trade,  Boston,  Philadelphia,  and  Baltimore,  althouo^h  in  themselves 
great  trading  communities,  must  ever  stand  in  the  relation  more 
of  auxiliaries  than  of  rivals  to  it  as  maritime  towns. 

But  to  appreciate  aright  the  position  of  the  city,  together  with 
its  environs,  continental  and  insular,  it  is  advisable  to  seek  some 
commanding  point  of  view,  from  which  the  whole  may  be  observed 
at  a  glance.  If  the  reader  will  accompany  me,  I  shall  lead  him  to 
such  a  point, 

Staten  Island,  as  I  have  already  observed,  forms  the  southern 
boundary  of  the  bay,  the  portion  of  it  lying  between  the  island  and 
the  city  being  from  four  to  five  miles  in  width.  Its  oudine,  which 
is  bold  and  undulating,  rises,  at  some  points,  to  a  considerable  ele- 
vation; its  sheltered  and  well-wooded  slopes,  which  are  generally 
deeply  immersed  in  shade,  from  their  northern  exposure,  forming, 
during  the  fierce  heats  of  summer,  a  most  refreshingr  feature  in  the 
prospect  commanded  from  the  town.  Along  the  shore,  and  nes- 
tled, as  it  were,  at  the  feet  of  the  uplands,  you  can  discern,  on 
looking  from  the  Battery,  several  prettily-situated  towns  and  ham- 
lets, w^hich  seem  almost  to  dip  into  the  waters  of  the  bay,  whilst 
their  gay  white  walls  present  a  pleasing  contrast  to  the  dark  green 
foliage  around  and  overhanging  them.  There  are  isolated  villas, 
too,  scattered  along  the  water-side,  and  embosomed,  at  different 
elevations,  amid  the  luxuriant  vegetation  of  the  shady  slopes  which 
swell  upward  from  the  shore.  The  tow^ns  are  watering-places,  to 
which  families  from  the  hot  dusty  city  retreat,  that  they  may  en- 
joy the  renovating  luxuries  of  sea  bathing;  the  villas  are  the  coun- 
try mansions  of  the  wealthier  of  the  citizens,  who  can  afibrd  to 
withdraw,  during  the  summer  season,  from  the  sickening  heats  of 
the  town.  Far  up  above  them  all,  on  the  topmost  height  visible  to 
you,  and  embosomed  amid  the  majestic  remnants  of  the  native 
forest,  is  the  hospitable  mansion  of  my  warm,  frank,  and  generous 

friend  Mr.  W .     Thither,  therefore,  let  us  hie  ;  I  promise  you, 

first,  a  friendly  reception,  and,  next,  a  magnificent  prospect. 

As  it  was  summer  when  I  first  visited  the  spot,  the  reader  must 
suppose  that  it  is  summer  when  he  accompanies  me. 

We  proceed  by  the  Staten  Island  ferry  boat,  which  starts  from 
Whitehall,  near  the  Battery.  Our  landing  place  on  the  island  is 
New  Brighton,  about  six  miles  from  town,  and  whither  a  sail  of 
about  half-an-hour  wdll  convey  us.  It  is  evening,  and  the  steam- 
boat is  crowded  wdth  passengers,  most  of  those  on  board  being 
merchants  and  traders  on  their  way  home  for  the  night.  They  are 
either  standing  or  walking  about  in  groups,  on  the  promenade-deck 
and  between  decks,  and  talking  eagerly  upon  matters  connected 


44  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

Willi  business  or  politics.  Here  antl  there,  beneath  the  seats,  you 
can  see  numbers  of  covered  baskets,  generally  filled  with  sucii 
luxuries  of  the  season  as  can  be  most  readily  procured  in  town. 
Some  whole  families  have  been  in  town  for  the  day,  and  are  now 
returning,  in  the  cool  of  the  evening,  to  their  refreshing  retreats, 
amid  the  trees,  or  by  the  water-side.  Several  children  are  gam- 
bolling upon  deck,  dressed  in  the  coolest  attire,  and  their  whole 
bodies' protected  from  the  sun  by  broad  straw  hats,  the  rims  of 
which  sway  up  and  down,  like  the  wings  of  a  large  bird,  with 
every  movement  which  they  make.  Their  youthful  but  languid- 
looking  mothers  are  carefully  watching  them  all  the  v/hile,  and 
?natchlhem  nervously  back,  whenever,  in  their  way  wardness,  they 
approach  too  near  the  slender  cord  taffrail,  which  is  all  that  inter- 
venes between  them  and  the  water.  There  is  a  fine  fresh  breeze 
on  the  bay,  of  which  several  outward-bound  ships  are  taking  ad- 
vantage, to  make  a  good  ofling  for  the  night.  Steamers  are  in  sight, 
crossing  and  re-crossing  all  the  ferries,  whilst  yachts  and  tiny  craft 
of  all  kinds  are  skipping  merrily  over  the  lively  waters.  We  land 
on  a  strong  wooden  pier,  flanked  by  some  straggling  houses,  mostly 
built  of  wood,  and  painted  white  as  snow.  We  get  into  a  hackney 
coach,  v/hich  slowly  jolts  us  up  a  steep  and  rugged  ascent,  whence 
we  diverge  into  a  pleasant  winding  road,  eut  but  recenUy  througii 
the  forest.  Pursuing  this  for  a  short  distance,  a  spacious  and  well- 
kept  lawn,  after  the  true  English  model,  suddenly  bursts  upon  us, 
at  the  top  of  which  is  our  haven  for  the  night.  But,  before  we 
enter,  let  me  draw  your  attention  to  that  glorious  sunset,  lighting 
up  the  western  heavens,  as  if  by  a  mighty  conflagration,  and  throw- 
ing a  broad  pathway  of  vermilion  across  the  tremulous  bay. 

The  house  is  large,  and  somewhat  fantastic  in  its  architecture, 
but  otherwise  well  suited,  in  all  respects,  to  the  tranquil  retreat  in 
the  midst  of  which  it  stands.  The  hall  door  is  open  to  enable  it  to 
inhale  the  cool  evening  breeze.  The  hall  itself  is  spacious,  and  so 
fashioned  as  to  remind  one  of  the  description  of  a  Roman  villa. 
We  are  led  by  a  servant  to  one  of  the  many  doors  which  open  from 

it,  and  hear  the  ivory  balls  ratding  as  we  approacli.     Mr.  W 

is  already  at  home,  and  in  the  billiard-room  with  some  friends  who 
have  accompanied  him  from  the  city.  Here  he  is,  young  and 
sprighdy,  his  countenance  beaming  with  intelligence  and  good 
humour.     Let  me  introduce  you. 

As  it  is  now  too  late  to  look  at  the  prospect,  we  dine,  and  after- 
wards pass  a  most  pleasant  evening,  our  kind  host  being  abundantly 
successful  in  his  endeavours  to  entertain  us,  whilst  his  charming 
young  wife  and  stately  modier-iii4aw  impart  grace  and  vivacity  to 
our  circle.  But  as  we  have  to  be  up  betimes  in  the  morning, 
we  separate  with  an  early  good-night. 

Earlv  morning,  and   liero    we   are,  after  a  refreshing  sleep,  in 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  45 

tlie  observatory  on  the  top  of  the  house.  The  prospect  below 
and  around  us  is  gorgeous  beyond  all  that  the  imagination  can 
conceive,  and  both  the  tongue  and  the  pen  fail  in  attempting  to 
describe  it. 

On  looking  around,  you  find  yourself  on  a  commanding  elevation, 
in  the  centre  of  a  vast  and  varied  panorama.  But  to  comprehend 
the  prospect  in  its  magnilicent  aggregate,  it  is  necessary  that  you 
should  observe  it  in  detail. 

To  the  eastward,  then,  which  we  may  select  as  a  starting  point, 
you  have  the  broad  and  buoyant  Atlantic,  rolling  in  towards  the 
land  before  a  fresh  sea-breeze.  The  sun  has  just  risen  above  the 
restless  horizon,  and  its  oblique  rays  are  tinging  the  wave  tops 
with  a  golden  lustre.  Scores  of  vessels  are  in  sight,  some  near 
enough  to  enable  you  to  distinguish  their  rig,  and  others  far  distant, 
looking  like  so  many  specks  upon  the  horizon.  The  aj)proach  to  tlie 
bay  is  flanked  far  out  to  sea,  on  the  south,  by  Sandyhook  and  the 
heights  of  Neversink  in  NewJersey  ;  and  on  the  north,  by  the  wavy 
coast  of  Long  Island,  which  comes  sweeping  in  almost  to  your 
feet.  Far  down  that  coast  you  can  distinguish,  against  the  dark- 
green  back-ground,  a  cluster  of  white  houses,  on  the  windows  of 
Vvliich  the  sunlight  now  glistens,  as  if  it  were  reflected  from  so 
many  topazes.  This  is  Rockaway,  a  favourite  watering-place, 
situated  in  the  bight  of  a  semicircular  bay,  which  opens  direct  upon 
the  Atlantic.  Withdrawing  your  gaze  from  the  distance,  your  eye 
rests,  amongst  the  objects  which  seem  to  be  more  immediately 
beneath  your  feet,  upon  the  channel  called  the  Narrows,  forming 
the  main  entrance  to  the  harbour,  and  consisting  of  a  narrow 
strait,  between  the  confronting  shores  of  Long  Island  and  Staten 
Island.  It  is  a  few  miles  in  length,  whilst  its  practicable  channel 
lor  shipping  is,  at  some  points,  very  narrow.  At  the  point  at 
which  the  two  islands  approach  nearest  to  each  other,  you  perceive 
it  flanked  by  two  strong  forts,  each  mounting  several  tiers  of  guns, 
and  so  close  to  each  other  that  either  could  apparently  play  with 
eflect  into  the  other.  They  might  serve  as  a  good  defence  against 
a  sailing  fleet,  but  their  efficiency  against  a  steam  squadron,  with 
line-of-battle  ships  in  tow,  would  be  very  doubtful.  On  both  sides 
of  the  strait  you  see  villas  and  farm  houses,  with  their  white  sides 
glittering  in  the  morning  sun-light,  and  the  water  in  the  channel 
now  glowing  beneath  them  like  a  tremulous  mass  of  gold.  Such  is 
tlie  great  gateway  to  New  York  from  the  "  highway  of  nations." 
As  already  seen,  the  city  can  also  be  approached  by  the  Sound, 
which  separates  the  northern  coast  of  Long  Island  from  the  State 
of  Connecticut ;  as  it  also  can  by  Raritan  Bay,  between  Staten 
Island  and  the  main  land  to  the  south  of  it,  and  the  long,  narrow, 
and  devious  channel  known  as  Staten  Island  Sound.  All  these  ap- 
proaches are  fortified.     From  the  height,  at  which  you  now  survey 


46  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

the  Narrows,  tlie  main  entrance  to  the  harbour  scorns  to  lie  at  \-our 
feet.  You  can  looiv  down  upon  the  very  decks  of  tlie  vessels  tiiat 
are  now  .-L-uddin^  g^ib"  ^"  before  the  east  wind,  which,  however, 
is  becominor  fainter  and  fainter,  as  the  sun  mounts  towards  the 
zenith.  What  hu^e  floating  object  is  that  just  opening  the  point 
on  which  one  of  the  forts  is  situated?  Jtis  soon  evident  that  she 
is  a  steamer  advancing  at  a  rapid  pace  towards  the  city.  Her  out- 
line seems  familiar  to  me  and  her  dimensions  suggest  diat  she  is  a 
'IVansatlantic  vessel.  A  look  dirough  the  glass  satisfies  me  that 
she  is  the  "  Great  Western,"  once  the  favourite  both  of  Europe 
and  America.  It  is  an  exciting  moment  for  the  passengers,  all  of 
whom  appear  to  be  upon  deck,  some  fondly  recognising  familiar 
objects,  and  others  gazing,  for  the  first  time,  upon  the  landscapes 
of  the  New  World.  You  can  distinguish  these  two  classes  of 
passengers  by  their  looks  and  gestures.  Captain  Matthews,  one  of 
liie  most  afiable,  vigilant,  and  trustworthy  sailors  that  ever  com- 
manded a  ship,  is  on  the  look-out  with  the  pilot,  on  the  larboard 
paddle-box. 

But  let  us  now,  carrying  the  eye  across  a  portion  of  Long 
Island,  turn  a  little  to  the  left,  and  almost  due  norlii,  we  have  the 
city  and  its  principal  suburb,  Brooklyn,  bei^ore  us.  They  lie  about 
six  miles  off;  but  in  the  clear,  crisp  morning  air,  and  seen  over  the 
gleaminof  \vaters  of  the  bay,  they  scarcely  seem  to  be  half  that  dis- 
tance. That  small  island  lying  between  us  and  the  city  is  Go- 
vernor's Island,  on  which  there  is  a  circular  fort  of  massive  brick- 
work, which,  from  the  proximity  of  the  island  to  the  town,  almost 
inero-es,  when  viewed  from  this  spot,  into  the  huge  red  mass  ot 
buildings  behind  it.  This  fort  seems  much  more  capable  ofdoing  mis- 
chief than  of  rendering  any  very  great  service  to  the  town.  Viewed 
fi-om  this  point,  New  York  and  Brooklyn  stand  out  in  bold  relief 
from  every  other  feature  in  the  scene.  The  channel  of  the  East 
River,  separating  the  city  from  its  Long  Island  suburb,  is  so  narrow 
and  winding  that,  seen  from  this  distance,  they  appear  to  blend 
into  one,  and  indeed,  but  for  the  forest  of  masts  and  rigging,  which 
line  for  miles  the  eastern  side  of  tlie  city,  and  which  now  seem  to 
ming-le  with  the  houses,  vou  would  not  be  aware  that  Uiere  was 

•  •  •  1 

a  strait  between  them,  'i'hc  whole  picture  is  striking  in  the  ex- 
treme. In  the  immediate  fore-ground  you  have  the  wooded  slopes 
of  Staten  Island,  darling  precipitately  down  from  your  very  feet  to 
tlie  water's  edge ;  next  comes  the  wide  expanse  of  the  noble  bay, 
beyond  which  rises  in  mid-distance,  a  huge  mass  of  ruddy  brick- 
work, which  the  eye  can  easily  resolve  into  all  the  outlines  of  a 
oreat  city;  whilst  far  beyond,  and  forminir  an  appropriate  back- 
ground to  the  whole,  are  the  uplands  of  A\'estcliester,  fading,  to  the 
eastward,  into  the  dim  and  distant  coast  of  Connecticut.  From 
the  dense  mass  of  human  habitations  before  you,  rise  innumerable 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  47 

spires  and  cupolas,    from  the  small,  white,  trim,  wooden  steeple 
ill   the   suburb,   to   the    beautiful   and  stately   spire    which   towers 
for  some  hundreds  of  feet,  over  Trinity  church.     On  the  spot  on 
M'hich  your  eye  now  rests,  four  hundred  thousand  human   beings 
are  already  awake  and  astir,  as  is  evident  from  the  thin  pale  smoke 
which  begins  to  sully,  but  in  that  direction  only,  the  clear  blue  sky. 
Hark  !  the  shrill  tone  of  a  bell  comes  ringing  up  to  us  over  the  tree 
tops.     A  few  minutes  more,  and  the  first  ferry-boat  for  the    day 
leaves  the  island  for  the  city.     On  she  speeds  gallantly,  lashing  the 
water    into   foam  behind   her;    crowds   of  passengers   pacing   her 
decks,  most  of  whom  have  already  breakfasted,  and  are  ready  for 
business.     You  perceive,  too,  against  the  mass  of  houses  in    the 
city,  columns  of  white  steam,  shot  up  suddenly  here  and  there  from 
escape  pipes,  their  hissino-  sound  by  and  by  stealing  faintly  to  your 
ear  across  the  waters  of  the  bay.     These  are  from  die  boats  plying 
upon  the  other  ferries,  and   from  ocean  and  inland   steamers    pre- 
jiaring  for  departure,  north,  east,  and  south.     You  have  scarcely 
noticed  all   this,  when  from  the   New  Jersey  shore  of  the  Hudson 
comes  the  shrill  whistle  of  the  locomotiv^e,  indicating  that  the  com- 
munication is  about  to  open  for  the  day  between  New  York  and 
Philadelphia.     That  is  no  echo  to  it,  which  immediately  follows  it 
from  Long  Island,   on   the  opposite  flank   of  the  city;  for,  if  you 
listen,  you  can  hear  the  rapid  panting  of  the  engine   as  it  drags  the 
heavily  laden  train  over  one  of  the  lines  of  communication  between 
the  city  and  New  England.     New  York  is  now  beginning  fairly  to 
pour  forth  its  daily  life,  and  craft  of  all  kinds  are  emerging  from 
beneath  its  shadow,  amongst  which  it  is  not  difficult  to  distinguish 
the  adventurous  and  fast-sailing  pilot-boat  making,  almost  in  the 
wind's  eye,  towards  the  Narrows,  for  the  Atlantic. 

It  is  when  you  direct  your  gaze  a  little  to  the  left  of  the  city  that 
you  become  fully  aware,  in  addition  to  its  maritime  superiority,  of 
the  excellence  of  its  position,  as  regards  inland  trade.  The  view 
in  that  direction  stretches  far  up  the  estuary  of  the  Hudson,  the 
broad  highway  to  the  far  west,  and  is  terminated  by  a  faint  line  of 
blue  hills,  known  as  the  highlands  of  the  Hudson,  and  through 
which  it  forces  its  way,  by  a  narrow  and  romantic  channel,  to  the 
Tappan  Zee.  It  is  on  this  magnificent  basin  that  the  western  side 
of  the  city  reposes.  On  its  eastern  side,  the  trade  of  the  East  is 
concentrated  ;  on  the  other,  the  traffic  of  the  West  is  poured.  It 
thus  immediately  connects  the  foreign  world  with  the  vast  and  far 
interior.  For  a  gresit  entrepot  of  trade,  then,  there  is,  perhaps,  but 
one  other  position  M'hich  excels  it,  and  that  will  be  afterwards  con- 
sidered. The  produce  of  the  world  is  accessible  to  it  from  the 
ocean  ;  whilst  its  facilities,  natural  and  artificial,  for  communication 
Avith  the  interior,  enable  it  to  distribute  that  produce  through  a 
thousand  different  channels,  at  the  same  time  that  it  is  the  point  on 


48  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

which  tlie  productions  of  the  interior  are  mainly  accumulated  for 
shipment. 

Turning  still  to  the  left,  you  have  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
estuary,  the  undulating  landscapes  of  New  Jersey,  with  the  pretty 
rural  retreat  of  Iloboken  in  the  foreground.  About  due  west,  is 
Jersey  city,  in  reality  another  suburb  of  New  York,  and  being  the 
starting  point  for  Philadelphia  and  the  South.  On  the  low  project- 
ing point  on  which  it  stands,  it  forms,  with  its  modest  and  solitary 
spire,  a  not  uninteresting  feature  in  the  scene.  Almost  in  a  line 
between  you  and  it  is  another  small  island,  crested  with  a  fort. 
The  ferry-boats  are  now  plying  every  ten  minutes  between  the  two 
shores.  A  little  to  the  south,  and  far  in  the  interior,  is  the  city  of 
Newark,  in  the  same  State — a  large  and  handsome  town,  but  look- 
ing from  this  distance  like  a  cluster  of  white  objects  accidentally 
dropped  upon  the  hill-side.  On  looking  more  closely,  you  will 
observe  that  it  stands  not  far  from  the  head  of  a  large,  shallow  bay. 
Between  us  and  this  bay  is  a  cluster  of  beautifully  wooded  slopes, 
separated  from  us  by  Staten  Island  Sound. 

Carrying  your  sweep  of  vision  still  further  to  the  south,  an  ex- 
tensive inland  view  of  New  Jersey  opens  up  to  you,  the  fore-ground 
being  occupied  by  the  islands  just  referred  to,  and  between  which 
and  Staten  Island,  you  can  here  and  there  trace  the  romantic  wind- 
ings of  the  narrow  sound,  to  which  the  latter  has  given  its  name. 
I  have  approached  the  city  through  this  channel  from  Amboy,  on 
the  mainland,  when  there  was  not  a  breath  of  air  to  ruffle  the  sur- 
face of  the  water,  when  the  bay  looked  like  a  huge  mass  of  quies- 
cent quicksilver,  when  town,  hill,  rock,  and  wood  seemed  afloat 
upon  its  surface,  and  when  all  wore  that  luscious  and  dreamy  look, 
which  characterizes  a  fancy  sketch  from  fairy-land.  Small  villages 
are  scattered  in  profusion  along  the  course  of  the  Sound ;  and  the 
rich  greenery,  in  which  the  islands  are  enveloped,  is  speckled,  here 
and  there,  with  sturdy  farm  houses  and  inviting  rural  retreats. 

In  turning  further  to  the  left,  till  you  look  due  south,  you  see 
where  the  New  Jersey  shore  takes  the  sudden  sweep  to  the  east- 
ward, which  carries  it,  back  of  Staten  Island,  to  the  Atlantic.  'J'lie 
country  here  is  beautifully  cultivated  and  uneven,  and  its  outline 
is  marked  by  a  succession  of  graceful  undulations.  This  portion 
of  the  mainland  is  almost  entirely  screened  by  Staten  Island  from 
the  city,  the  broad  expanse  of  Raritan  Bay  intervening  between  the 
island  and  the  mainland.  Looking  once  more  to  the  eastward,  and 
out  to  seaward,  the  wavy  land  line  becomes  fainter,  and  fainter, 
until  at  last,  from  the  hazy  heights  of  Ncversink,  the  eye  falls 
flagging  upon  the  Atlantic,  at  tiie  point  where  you  commenced 
your  survey. 

You  have  now  completed  the  circuit  of  a  panorama  containing, 
within  a  diameter  of  from  CO  to  102  miles,  a  greater  variety  and  a 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  ^  49 

more  elaborate  combination  of  all  the  elements  essential  to  perfect 
landscape  tlian,  perhaps,  any  other  prospect  in  the  world.  You 
have  the  ocean  rolling  almost  at  your  feet, — you  have  a  spacious  bay, 
clustered  with  islands,  and  confined  by  a  most  irregular  coast,  two 
otTshoots  of  which  bay,  the  one  a  noble  estuary,  and  the  other  a 
deep  narrow  strait,  encircle  a  great  city,  which  they  separate  from 
its  suburbs, — you  have  the  mainland  rising,  near,  into  rich  and 
swelling  uplands,  and,  in  the  distance,  into  faint  and  hazy  elevations ; 
whilst  the  shore  all  around  you,  is  indented  with  beautiful  creeks, 
and  mantled  in  the  richest  verdure.  The  whole,  taken  together, 
presents  a  combination  of  land  and  water,  hill  and  dale,  town  and 
shipping,  island  and  woodland,  corn-field  and  forest,  of  objects  near 
and  objects  remote,  of  river  and  ocean,  of  bay  and  promontory, 
which  for  richness,  variety  and  imposing  beauty,  is  not  elsewhere 
to  be  seen. 

But  let  us  now  descend  to  breakfast,  for  which  a  brief  stroll 
through  the  grounds  will  serve  as  an  excellent  preparation.  The 
lawn  in  front  of  the  house  commands  a  view  of  Raritan  Bay  and 
the  Atlantic;  whilst  from  the  back  of  it  may  be  seen  the  bay.  New 
York,  Long  Island,  and  a  large  section  of  New  Jersey.  There  is 
not  a  window  in  the  house  but  commands  a  prospect  as  varied  as 
it  is  extensive.  It  is  but  fit  that  a  spot,  around  which  nature  has 
concentrated  so  many  of  her  charms,  should  be  decorated  in  part 
with  the  achievements  of  art ;  and  on  entering  a  smaller  lawn,  at  the 
west  end  of  the  house,  and  screened  from  that  in  front  by  a  belt  of 
trees  and  shrubbery,  we  find  it  ornamented  with  elegant  groups  of 
statuary,  and  presenting  a  happy  blending  of  art  and  nature  in  their 
most  exquisite  features. 

After  breakfast,  we  descend  to  New  Brighton,  and  proceed  by 
ferry-boat  to  town.  Our  landing-place  is  Whitehall,  at  the  point 
from  which  we  started  on  the  preceding  evening.  As  it  is  now  my 
purpose  to  request  the  reader  to  accompany  me  in  a  short  ramble 
through  the  town,  we  shall  proceed  at  once  to  the  Battery,  than 
which  a  better  starting  point  cannot  be  selected. 

The  long  tongue  of  land  on  which  the  city  is  built,  converges  to 
a  point  at  its  southern  extremity.  On  this  point,  and,  as  it  were, 
at  the  foot  of  the  town,  is  the  Battery.  Let  not  the  reader  be  de- 
ceived by  the  formidable  sound  of  its  name,  into  picturing  to  him- 
self a  lofty  mound,  crested  with  massive  w^alls,  perforated  w^ith  em- 
brasures, and  brisding  with  cannon.  It  derives  its  name  from  a 
purpose  to  which  it  was  once  applied,  but  to  which  it  is  unlikely 
that  it  will  ever  be  applied  again.  It  is  a  low  spot  of  ground,  al- 
most level  with  high-water  mark,  and  defended  from  the  encroach- 
ments of  the  bay  by  a  wall  but  a  few  feet  in  height,  on  a  level  with 
the  top  of  which  is  a  broad  gravel  walk,  having  along  its  outward 
side  a  slight  open  railing,  which  is  all  that  protects  the  pedestrians, 
VOL.  I. — 5 


50  THE  WESTERN  WORLO, 

passing  to  and  fro  from  the  bay.  Back  of  this  walk  are  plots  of 
grass  of  various  shapes  and  sizes,  intersected  by  other  walks,  broad 
and  spacious,  like  that  which  skirts  the  water.  These  promenades 
are  all  lined  with  magnificent  trees,  which  fonn  shady  avenues  in 
all  directions  through  the  grounds,  which  are  a  tittle  more  than  half 
the  size  of  St.  James's  Park,  "VVlien  the  trees  are  in  full  leaf,  the 
Battery  has  a  fine  effect  seen  from  the  bay,  as  a  foreground  to  the 
town.  It  is  a  place  much  frequented  in  summer  evenings  by  the 
New  Yorkers,  who  are  attracted  to  it  not  only  by  the  §hade  which 
its  foliage  alfords  them,  but  also  by  the  fresh  breezes  which  gene- 
rally play  along  its  avenues  from  the  bay.  It  is  not  now,  however, 
a  place  of  fashionable  resort,  which  is,  perhaps,  chiefly  to  be  attri- 
buted to  its  distance  from  the  fashionable  quarter*  of  the  city,  which 
lie  to  the  northward,  A  more  delicious  retreat  can  scarcely  be  ima- 
gined than  the  Battery  on  a  fine  summer  evening.  In  front  lies 
the  vast  body  of  the  bay,  bounded  by  the  amphitheatric  sweep  of 
the  shores  of  Long  Island,  Staten  Island,  and  New  Jersey,  the 
whole  of  which,  with  Governor's  Island,  and  the  other  islets  in  the 
bay,  when  seen  from  the  level  of  the  water,  and  lighted  up  by  the 
glow  of  an  American  sunset,  presents  a  picture  which  may  be 
more  easily  conceived  than  described.  When  any  exciting  occasion 
ealls  the  New  Yorkers  in  multitudes  into  it,  the  Battery  exhibits  a 
most  striking  scene.  The  "Sirius"  was  the  first  vessel  that 
crossed  from  England  to  New  York  by  steam.  Her  arrival  was 
unexpected  ;  the  "  Great  Western,"  which  followed  her  in  the 
course  of  a  few  hours,  being  that  which  was  looked  for  as  the  real 
harbinger  of  a  new  era  in  Transatlantic  navigation.  As  soon  as  it 
was  rumored  that  her  smoke  was  visible  in  the  direction  of  the 
Narrows,  the  whole  population,  as  if  animated  by  one  impulse, 
seemed  to  pour  down  to  the  Battery  to  welcome  her.  In  an  hour 
afterwards  she  was  abreast  of  the  East  River  ;  instead  of  immetli- 
ately  ascending  which  to  dock,  she  passed  the  Battery,  turned  and 
dashed  past  it  again  close  to  shore,  when  she  was  welcomed  by  the 
liuzzas  of  upwards  of  one  hundred  thousand  people,  crowded  upon 
the  terrace  walk  that  skirted  the  bay.  I  was  told  by  a  passenger 
who  had  been  an  eye-witness  of  the  scene  from  on  board,  that  it 
was  one   of  the  most  magnificent  spectacles  he  had  ever  beheld. 

I  myself  afterwards  witnessed  tne  Battery,  when  it  was  densely 
crowded  with  people.  It  was  on  a  fourth  of  July,  the  great  na- 
tional gala-day  of  America.  The  weather  was  fine,  and  every  sliip 
in  harbour  was  decorated  with  colours.  The  "  North  Carolina,"  a 
first-class  American  ship,  was  lyii.g  in  the  harbour,  where  she  had 
been  doing  duty,  for  some  time,  as  a  guard  ship.  At  one  o'clock 
she  fired  a  salute  in  honour  of  the  day,  and  in  commemoration  of 
the  important  event,  of  which,  a  little  more  than  half  a  century 
previously,  it  had  been  the  witness.  Lord  Ashi)urton  was  then  in 
America,  engaged   in   negotiations    wiUi  Mr.  Webster,   American 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  51 

Secretary  of  State,  concernin<T  the  north-eastern  boundary.  The 
*••  Warspite  ■'  frigate,  under  the  command  of  Lord  John  Hay,  which 
had  conve}'ed  liis  lordship  to  New  York,  and  was  waiting  to  carry 
liim  back  to  England,  was  also  moored  in  tlie  harbour.  I  observed 
that,  whilst  the  guns  of  the  ♦*  North  Carolina"  were  one  after 
another  being  discharged,  speculation  was  rife  amongst  the  crowd 
as  to  what  the  "  Warspite  "  would  do,  M'hich  lay  at  some  distance 
from  the  shore,  with  colours  flying,  but  M^ith  no  signs  of  life  on 
board.  Tlie  salute  from  the  "North  Carolina"  being  finished,  a 
pause  of  a  iaw  minutes  ensued,  but  the  "  Warspite  "  remained  si- 
lent. 

"  The  Britisher's  out  of  gunpowder,"  said,  at  length,  one  near 
me  in  the  crowd. 

He  had  scarcely  uttered  the  words,  when  a  flash  momentarily 
gleamed  from  the  side  of  the  frigate,  followed  by  a  wreathing  cloud 
of  smoke,  and  in  a  few  seconds  afterwards,  the  boom  of  a  heavy 
gun  struck  with  painful  force  upan  the  ear,  reverberated  through  all 
the  avenues  of  the  Batteiy,  a>nd  shook  the  windows  in  the  houses 
which  overlooked  it.  The  cq;^itrast  between  the  heavy  metal  which 
it  indicated,  and  the  guns  on  board  the  "  North  Carolina,"  was  too 
striking  not  to  be  noticed  by  the  crowd,  who  looked  at  each  other 
widi  surprise  mingled  with  some  mortification.  As  the  "  War- 
spite "  continued  to  thunder  forth  her  salute,  she  made  pop-guns  of 
the  metal  on  board  the  "North  Carolina."  It  is  but  just,  however, 
to  say,  that  the  latter  had  not  then  her  sailing  armament  on  board  ; 
an  American  ship,  in  general,  when  fully  equipped,  carrying  hea- 
vier metal  than  a  British  one.  I  could  not  help  observing,  however, 
tliat  many  were  very  causelessly  annoyed,  by  one  of  their  own 
first-class  ships  being  outdone,  on  such  an  occasion,  by  a  second- 
class  ship  in  the  British  service.  But  as  time  passes,  let  us  leave 
the  Battery  for  the  town. 

Passing  through  one  of  the  iron  gates  which  separated  it  from  the 
streets,  we  find  ourselves  at  once  in  Broadway.  This  is  the  great 
artery  of  New  York,  commencing  at  the  Battery,  and  passing  in  a 
straight  line  along  the  whole  length  of  the  City,  as  far  north  as  it  is 
yet  built,  and  lying  about  midway  between  the  Hudson  and  the 
East  River.  It  is  a  noble  thoroughfare,  and  serves  at  once  as  the 
Regent-street  and  the  Strand  of  New  York ;  being  a  promenade  for 
loungers,  and  a  great  highway  for  the  business  of  the  city.  Like 
most  strangers,  you  are  disappointed  at  its  width,  which  does  not 
exceed  that  of  the  Strand  at  the  Golden  Cross,  whilst  its  name  sug- 
gests very  difl"erent  proportions  in  this  respect.  You  have  not  pro- 
ceeded many  yards,  ere  yon  come  to  a  small  open  space,  called  the 
Bowling-green,  there  being  now  but  very  little  accord  between  its 
appearance  and  its  name.  Until  within  a  few  years,  it  consisted  of 
a  small  circular  patch  of  grass,  surrounded  by  a  high  iron  railing, 


-52  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

tlie  tops  of  the  different  bars  of  which  were  all  broken  ofl";  it  being 
with  no  little  satisfaction  that  a  New  Yorker  informed  you  that  they 
were  thrown  by  the  revolutionary  cannon  against  the   adherents  of 
George  the  Third.     It  is  now  converted  into  a  tank,  from  the  midst 
of  which  arises  an  artificial  rock,  made  to  look  as  natural  as  possi- 
ble, and  from  which,  at  different  points,  water  is  spouting  in  abun- 
dance by  a  multitude  of  jets.     The  effect  is  exceedingly  good. 
Proceeding  northward,  Broadway  rises  from  this  point  by  a  gentle 
ascent  for  nearly  half  a  mile.     The  terraces  of  houses  on  both  sides 
*are  both  elegant  and  lofty,  some  being  built  of  red  brick,  and  others 
of  gray  granite  from   Massachusetts.      About   half  way  up  this 
ascent,  a  large  gap  appears  on  the  right,  left  by  the  devastating  fire 
of  the  previous  year.     A  great  portion  of  the  area  over  which  the 
fire  extended  is  already  rebuilt,  but  there  is  still  enough  left  in  ruin 
to  indicate  the  extent  of  the  catastrophe.     A  year  hence,  however, 
and  the  stranorer  would  not  know  that  it  had  ever  occurred.     The 
New  Yorkers  have  been  warned  by  terrible   experience  of  the  ne- 
cessity of  constructing  their  houses  on  a  more  tire-proof  plan,  nor 
have  the  lessons  which  they  have  received  been  altogether  without 
effect  upon  them.     They  have  now  a  better  supply  of  water  than 
formerly,  for  the  extinction  of  fire.     During  the  great  fire,  which 
occurred  about  1834,  and  levelled  from  500  to  1,000  houses,  in  the 
most  business   quarter  of  the  town,  the  firemen,  mIio  were  numer- 
ous and  well-disciplined,  were  quite  exhausted  by  the  time  the  fire 
was  subdued  ;   and  had   it  not  been  for  the  timely  arrival  of  the 
Philadelphia  firemen  with  their  engines,  who  acted,  on  the  occasion, 
the  part  allotted  to  the  Prussians  at  Waterloo,  the  devouring  element 
might  again  have  made  headway  and  laid  half  the  city  in  ashes. 
Between  the  Battery  and  the  point  M'here  the  last  great  fire  occurred, 
Broadway  is  generally  occupied  by  private  residences.     As  you 
ascend,  however,  from  this   point,  business   makes  itself  more  and 
more  manifest,  until  you  are  at  length  as  much  in  the  midst  of  it  as 
if  standino-  in  Cheapside. 

You  do  not  proceed  very  far  ere  you  pass  Trinity  Church,  of 
which  more  by-and-by.  Immediately  beyond  this  you  come  to  the 
hotels,  the  chief  of  which  are  situated  in  Broadway.  This  one  on 
the  lel\  is  the  Franklin  House ;  and  that  over  the  way,  and  a  little 
farther  up,  is  the  Howard  House,  an  enormous  establishment,  gene- 
rally the  favourite  of  Canadian  travellers.  About  one  or  two  hun- 
dred yards  further  on,  is  St.  Paul's  Church,  on  the  left,  with  its  dark 
sombre  portico,  and  its  graceful  spire.  There  is  a  burial-ground 
behind  it,  in  whicli  many  of  the  revolutionary  heroes  are  interred. 
By  the  time  you  reach  tliis  point  you  perceive  that  Broadway  oc- 
cupies the  hiffhest  ground  on  the  island,  from  the  manner  in  which 
the  streets  incline,  which  lead  from  it,  on  either  side,  to  the  water. 
Those  leading  off  on  the  left,  towards  the  Hudson,  arc,  generally 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  53 

speaking,  straight  and  continuous  to  tlie  water,  not  only  the  river, 
but  the  opposite  shore  of  New  Jersey,  being  visible,  as  you  look 
along  many  of  them.  The  streets  leading,  on  the  right,  towards  the 
East  River,  and  into  the  chief  seat  of  business  in  the  town,  are 
both  narrow  and  crooked,  the  view  along  them  being  bounded,  not 
by  flood  and  field,  but  by  piles  of  intervening  brick-work.  The 
descent  of  the  land  on  either  side  from  Broadway  admirably  adapts 
the  site  of  the  city  to  the  purposes  of  sewerage. 

Immediately  on  passing  St.  Paul's  Church,  you  abut  upon  the 
Park,  a  triangular  space,  covered  with  grass,  and  ornamented  with 
groups  of  trees.  Its  apex  is  towards  you,  as  you  approach  it  from 
the  Battery,  Broadway  continuing  its  straight  course  along  its  left 
or  western  side,  whilst  another  thoroughfare  strikes  off  at  an  acute 
angle  to  the  right,  which  after  proceeding  for  some  distance,  merges 
into  another  great  street,  called  the  Bowery,  which  runs  parallel  to 
Broadway,  and  which  has  been  apdy  called  by  Mr.  Buckingham  the 
Holborn  of  New  York.  The  Park,  which  is'about  the  size  of  Ken- 
nington-common,  is,  as  an  open  space,  of  the  utmost  value  to  New 
York.  The  island  being  narrow,  the  ground  near  its  southern  point 
was  too  valuable  to  be  laid  out  into  public  pleasure-grounds.  The 
consequence  is  that,  with  the  exception  of  St.  John's-square,  a  small 
open  space  about  the  size  of  Burton-crescent,  between  it  and  the 
Hudson,  the  Park  is  the  only  open  ground  within  the  more  densely 
built  portion  of  the  city.  In  the  newer  parts  of  the  city  to  the 
northward,  more  attention  is  being  paid  to  public  health' and  re- 
creation; Washington-square,  which  leads  off  Broadway  to  the  left, 
and  Union-square,  which  will  yet  form  part  of  its  line,  being  equal, 
and,  indeed,  the  latter  superior  in  size,  to  any  of  our  London 
squares. 

Immediately  on  entering  the  Park  you  have  the  Astor  House  on 
your  left,  on  the  line  of  Broadway.  To  get  a  proper  view  of  this 
enormous  granite  pile,  you  must  cross  to  the  opposite  side  of  tlie 
open  space  in  front  of  it.  Its  chief  elevation  is  on  Broadway,  its 
two  sides  forming  parts  of  two  parallel  streets,  leading  from  the 
main  thoroughfare  towards  the  Hudson.  The  basement  story  is 
low,  and  is  occupied  by  a  series  of  superb  shops,  the  whole  of  the 
upper  portion  of  the  building,  which  is  on  a  gigantic  and  palatial 
scale,  being  appropriated  to  the  purposes  of  an  hotel.  A  broad 
flight  of  granite  steps  leads  to  an  enormous  recess  in  the  wall,  flanked 
by  huge  pillars,  and  surmounted  by  a  pediment,  at  the  bottom 
of  which  recess  is  the  main  entrance,  approached  by  another  flight 
of  steps.  Once  within  this,  a  double  flight  of  marble  steps  leads  to 
an  enormous  hall,  with  a  tesselated  marble  pavement:  this  hall 
is  surrounded  by  sitting-rooms,  and  off  one  end  of  it  is  the  great 
dining-room,  a  noble  saloon,  in  which  hundreds  of  guests  daily  sit 
down  at  the  table  irhoic.     Tiie  building  is  a  quadrangle,  enclosing 

5^ 


54  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

an  inner  conrt,  with  a  fountain  in  the  midst  of  it.  The  number  of 
bed-rooms  is  immense,  and  so  complete  is  this  mammoth  establisii- 
ment  in  all  its  parts,  that  it  has  its  own  printing  press  to  strike  off 
its  daily  bills  of  fare.  It  seems,  in  fact,  to  be  a  great  self-subsisting 
establishment,  doing  all  but  growing  and  grinding  the  corn,  and 
feeding  and  slaughtering  the  meat  consumed  by  it.  Nowhere  in 
the  world  is  the  hotel  system  carried  to  such  an  extent  as  it  is  in 
America.  Travellers  almost  invariably  frequent  the  hotels,  whilst 
many  families,  particularly  young  couples  beginning  life,  board  and. 
lodge  in  them.  Indeed,  with  the  exception  of  Washington,  where 
every  second  house  is  a  boarding-house,  it  is  difficult  to  find  private 
lodgings  in  any  of  the  American  towns.  There  are  some  in  the 
greater  cities,  but  one  must  be  positively  directed  to  them  to  find 
them  out.  There  are  many  establishments,  too,  of  a  private  cha- 
racter, where  several  families  lodgre  together.     The  influence  of  this, 

^  CO 

and  of  the  habit  of  permanently  boarding  at  hotels  upon  society, 
will  be  more  fully  and  more  appropriately  considered  hereafter. 

Immediately  beyond  the  Astor  House  is  the  American  Hotel, 
small  in  comparison  with  the  monster  beside  it,  but  not  inferior  to 
it  in  comfort.  There  are  many  others  in  Broadway,  but  those  al- 
ready mentioned  are  the  principal  ones. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  Park,  and  directly  opposite  the  Astor 
House,  is  the  Park  Theatre,  the  chief  and  the  most  fashionable 
temple  of  the  drama  in  New  York.  The  city  is  well  supplied  with 
theatres.  Next  in  importance  to  the  Park,  is  the  Bowery  Theatre, 
named,  like  the  other,  from  its  locality.  They  are  generally  well 
attended,  but  derive  their  chief  support  from  strangers  visiting  the 
town,  either  for  business  or  recreation. 

A  little  beyond  the  Park  Theatre  is  a  buiklins:  of  a  heavy  and 
sombre  cast,  which,  despite  its  unpromising  exterior,  has  cut  not  a 
little  figure  in  the  world.  It  is  Tammany  Hall,  the  chosen  rendez- 
vous of  the  Loco  Foco  party,  and  where  are,  every  now  and  then, 
celebrated  the  orgies  of  Democracy.  It  has  recently  been  the  scene 
of  several  tempestuous  Irish  demonstrations  against  this  country. 
A  little  further  up,  but  within  the  area  of  the  Park,  and  about  two- 
thirds  of  the  way  from  its  apex  to  its  base,  occupying  a  line  pa- 
rallel with  tlie  latter,  stands  the  City  Hall,  a  large  and  elegantbuilding, 
approached  by  a  noble  flight  of  steps,  and  surmounted  by  a  lofty 
cupola.  Its  front  elevation,  which  is  of  white  marble,  looks  down 
Broadway,  in  the  direction  of  the  Battery. — Ten  chances  to  one  that 
you  are  disturbed  this  very  night  by  the  bell  in  the  cupola.  From 
that  elevation  a  view  of  the  whole  city  is  commanded,  and  day  and 
night  a  man  watches  by  the  bell,  with  a  hammer  in  his  hand  with 
which  to  strike  it  in  the  moment  he  perceives  any  indication  of  fire. 
'JMie  number  of  strokes  which  he  gives  at  a  time  indicates  the  ward 
whence  the  alarm  proceeds.     The  city  is  divided  into  seventeen 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  55 


wards,  and  tliis  arrangement  directs  tlie  firemen  at  once  to  the  spot 
where  their  exertions  may  be  necessary.  Numerous  as  are  the 
fires  in  New  York,  the  alarms  of  tire  are  still  more  so.  I  hav^e  been 
disturbed  by  as  many  as  four  in  a  night,  and  although  they  are 
sometimes  groundless,  they  too  often  prove  real.  In  front  of  the 
City  Hall,  and  within  the  railings  of  the  Park,  is  the  finest  fountain 
in  New  York.  It  gushes  in  all  directions  from  the  centre  of  the 
reservoir  into  which  it  falls,  and  with  such  a  force  as  to  resolve 
itself  into  a  large  cloud  of  spray.  The  very  music  of  it  in  summer 
fiUls  with  cooling  influence  upon  the  ear.  It  is  supplied  from  the 
Croton,  forty  miles  olF,  by  means  which  will  by-and-by  be  alluded 
to. 

From  the  Park,  where  it  seems  to  attain  a  considerable  elevation, 
Broadway  gradually  descends  for  some  distance,  after  which  it 
gendy  rises  again,  until  it  reaches  the  northern  suburbs.  It  pre- 
sents less  of  a  business  appearance  beyond  the  Park,  than  between 
it  and  the  Battery,  and  you  soon  come  to  continuous  terraces  of 
private  dwellings.  The  streets  too,  leading  immediatel)''  from  it, 
on  either  side,  are  here  chiefly  occupied  by  private  houses.  At  its 
lowest  level,  after  passing  the  Park,  a  street,  which  goes  off  from 
it  on  the  right,  leads  to  the  district  of  the  town  unfavourably  known 
as  the  Five  Points.  Though  by  no  means  attractive  to  the  stranger, 
it  is  worth  a  visit.  Both  in  its  moral  and  physical  aspect,  it  is  not 
unlike  the  Seven  Dials — the  latter,  however,  being  the  better,  and 
more  regularly  built  of  the  two.  The  site  which  it  occupies  is  low, 
and  was  once  marshy  ground,  the  cheapness  of  the  land  inducing 
the  poorer  class  of  the  inhabitants  to  build  upon  it.  It  is  now  in 
the  very  heart  of  the  city ;  and  a  filthier  or  more  squalid  place  it 
would  not  be  easy  to  conceive.  It  is  the  common  haunt  of  the 
Irish,  and  the  negro  population  of  the  city.  But  let  us  emerge 
again  into  Broadway. 

Pursuing  our  way  towards  the  north,  there  is  but  liule  now  to 
attract  us  on  either  side.  We  soon  cross  Canal-Street,  the  Farring- 
don-Street  of  New  York,  both  being  very  wide,  crossing  the  line  of 
the  main  thorouorhfares,  and  coverinor  a  huore  sewer,  which  runs 
below.  The  private  dwellings  with  which  the  part  of  Broadway 
beyond  this  is  lined,  are  large  and  roomy,  although  not  high,  and 
are  almost  all  approached  by  a  flight  of  steps.  As  we  get  near  the 
top,  Washington-square  is  to  the  left,  one  side  of  which  is  occupied 
by  the  University,  a  noble  institution,  accommodated  in  a  noble 
marble  pile.  About  three  miles  from  the  Battery,  Broadway  first 
deviates  from  the  slraigrht  line,  divero-ino;  a  little  to  the  left,  as  Re- 
gent-Street  does  into  Portland-place;  and  situated  in  the  angle  cor- 
responding to  that  occupied  by  All  Souls'  church,  at  the  head  of 
Regent-street,  is  a  new  and  beautiful  Episcopal  cliurch,  of  the  purest 
Golhic,  and  decidedly  one  of  the  most  eleorant  ecclesiastical  structures 


/>6  THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  ' 

in  New  York.  A  little  beyond  the  turn,  Broadway  merges  into 
Union-square,  from  the  other  side  of  which  it  again  pursues  its 
northerly  course. 

We  iiave  now  fairly  reached  tlie  northern  limits  of  the  town, 
which  already  extends  for  three  miles  up  the  island.  From  nine 
to  ten  miles  of  it,  are,  therefore,  as  yet  unbuilt  upon,  but  its  whole 
area,  up  to  the  Harlaem  River,  is  even  now  laid  out  into  what  is 
destined  to  be  future  streets,  avenues,  and  squares.  When  the  city 
covers  the  whole,  Broadway,  which  extends  from  one  end  of  the 
island  to  the  other,  will  be  thirteen  miles  long.  The  plan  of  the 
future  city,  between  Union-square  and  the  Ilarlaem  River,  is  one 
of  great  regularity,  streets  running  parallel  to  each  other,  at  regular 
distances,  and  extending  across  the  island  from  the  Hudson  to  the 
East  River,  and  being  intersected  by  other  long  streets,  designated 
avenues,  which  will  run  in  the  direction  of  its  length,  and  parallel 
to  Broadway.  The  streets  and  avenues  are  all  numbered,  instead 
of  being  named  in  the  ordinary  way.  This  may  not  be  very  poetic, 
but  it  will  be  vasdy  convenient.  Washington  or  Franklin-street 
may  be  any  where  in  the  town,  the  name  not  designating  the  posi- 
tion; but  no  one  can  be  at  a  loss,  understanding  the  plan  of  this 
part  of  the  city,  to  know  where  Fifteenth-street,  or  Fourth-avenue 
is.  These  streets  and  avenues,  of  course,  as  yet,  exist  only  on  the 
chart;  but  those  w^hich  are  nearest  to  the  town,  are  already  partly 
built  upon,  some  of  the  finest  private  residences  being  erected  on 
either  side  of  them. 

It  is  not  with  the  mere  desire  of  following  in  the  footsteps  of 
others  that,  before  quitting  this  part  of  the  town,  I  direct  attention 
to  the  number  of  vagrant  pigs  with  which  it  is  infested.  I  have 
seen  specimens  of  this  interesting  race  in  Greenwich-street,  not  far 
from  the  Battery,  but  it  is  only  when  you  gain  the  upper  and  more 
fashionable  portions  of  the  city,  that  they  appear  to  be  quite  at 
home,  and  to  have  their  acknowledged  place  on  the  public  prome- 
nades. Sights  to  which  we  are  daily  accustomed,  make  but  little 
impression  upon  us,  and  therefore  it  is  that  New  Yorkers  frequently 
express  an  honest  surprise  at  the  discoveries,  in  this  respect,  made 
by  strangers.  They  are  made  simply  because  the  attention  of  the 
latter  is  alive  to  every  thing;  and  if  a  New  Yorker  himself  will 
only  walk  up  Broadway,  as  far  as  Union-square,  fancying  himself 
for  the  time  being,  a  stranger,  and  ready  to  recognise  every  object 
that  presents  itself,  he  will  find  not  only  that  noble  thoroughfare, 
but  also  many  of  the  streets  that  on  either  side  lead  into  it,  infested, 
to  a  considerable  extent,  by  the  quadrupeds  in  question.  If,  from 
its  position,  climate,  or  any  other  circumstance,  it  were  a  necessity 
imposed  upon  New  York  to  submit  to  this  inlliction,  it  could  not 
be  too  delicately  alluded  to  by  a  stranger;  but  when  it  is  simply 
the  result  of  a  defect  in  the  police  regulations  of  the  town,  it  be- 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD,  57 

comes  a  legitimate  subject  of  criticism.  Tliere  is  surely  no  con- 
stitutional maxim  or  principle  enunciated  in  the  declaration  ol' inde- 
pendence, that  requires  that  the  freedom  of  the  city  should  be 
indiscriminately  conferred  upon  these  animals.  It  would  demand 
the  infusion  of  but  very  little  stringency  into  its  police  regulations, 
to  rid  a  fine  town  of  so  unfavourable  a  feature  in  a  tout  ensemble, 
which  is  otherwise  both  attractive  and  imposing.  Every  one  must 
admit  the  incongruity  of  the  sight,  such  as  I  have  seen,  of  a  huge 
filthy  hog  devouring  a  putrid  cabbage  on  a  marble  door-step. 

But  let  us  now  hasten  to  the  port  of  New  York,  which  we  shall 
first  explore  on  the  East  River  side.  Turning  off  Broadway  to  the 
east,  and  descending  one  of  the  streets  which  lead  from  it  in  that 
direction,  we  very  soon  cross  the  broad  thoroughfare  of  the  Bowery, 
after  which  we  plunge  into  a  labyrinUi  of  narrow  and  crooked 
streets,  which  by-and-by  lead  us  to  the  port.  The  East  River, 
which,  as  already  intimated,  is  but  a  prolongation  of  the  Sound, 
uniting  it  with  the  estuary  of  the  Hudson,  and  dividing  Long  Island 
from  New  York,  is  deep  but  narrow,  and  flows,  at  some  states  of 
the  tide,  with  a  heavy  current.  Some  distance  up  from  the  point 
at  which  we  have  struck  it,  is  Blackwell's  Island,  forming  one  side 
of  it,  above  which  the  Sound  gradually  expands,  and  turns  oft'  in 
a  north-easterlv  direction,  its  surface  being  here  dotted  with  several 
other  islands,  by  the  narrow  and  crooked  channels  between  which 
vessels  may  find  their  way  to  its  more  open  portions,  and  through 
tliem  to  the  Adantic.  At  Williamsburg,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
East  River,  and  which  you  can  just  discern  some  distance  up,  is  a 
building  yard  belonging  to  the  general  government.  It  is,  in  fact, 
the  Deptford  of  New  York,  but  with  this  essential  dift"erence,  that 
it  does  not  encroach  upon  the  accommodation  required  in  the  port 
for  the  commercial  marine.  The  wharves  which  flank  the  city  on 
the  east  side  are  numerous,  and  mostly  built  of  wood,  projecting 
for  a  short  distance  into  the  water,  not  to  attain  a  sufficiency  of 
depth,  but  to  form  between  them  slips  for  the  better  accommodation 
of  the  craft  that  are  moored  to  them.  Where  we  are  now,  high 
up  the  port,  these  are  of  the  smaller  kind,  consisting  chiefly  of 
sloops  and  schooners  engaged  in  the  coasting  trade  with  Connec- 
ticut and  the  rest  of  New  England,  and  of  numerous  barges  and 
lighters,  which  are  almost  exclusively  applied  to  purposes  more 
immediately  connected  with  the  port  itself.  Between  the  wharves 
and  the  houses  is  a  broad  thoroughfare,  as  in  Liverpool;  and  which, 
indeed,  makes  the  circuit  of  the  town  on  its  water  sides.  As  we 
proceed  southwards,  towards  the  Battery,  it  is  some  time  ere  the 
scene  on  the  left  undergoes  any  chana^e,  the  wharves  being  all  alike, 
and  the  craft  in  the  slips  diff*ering  but  litde  in  character  from  each 
other.  On  the  right,  or  land  side,  we  soon  come  to  a  succession 
of  Ume  and  coal  yards,  in  the  latter  of  which,  side  by  side  with  the 


58  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

bituminous  coal  from  liivcrpool  and  Nova  Scotia,  may  be  seen  the 
anthracite  product  of  the  rich  mines  of  Pennsylvania.  We  next 
come  to  some  private  building-yards,  with  boats,  barges,  sloops, 
schooners,  and  steamers,  in  different  stages  of  completion.  In  the 
one  lowest  down  of  all,  you  perceive  a  steamer  on  the  stocks,  no 
further  advanced  than  the  setting  of  her  timbers.  She  is  designed 
to  ply  upon  the  Hudson,  and,  from  her  proportions,  reminds  one 
less  of  that  wliich  she  is  destined  to  become,  than  of  the  skeleton 
of  a  huore  boa  constrictor. 

Proceeding  a  litde  further  in  our  course,  we  reach  a  point  at 
which  the  island,  trending  suddenly  to  the  south-west,  gradually 
tapers  olT  towards  the  Battery.  The  coast  of  Long  Island  here 
projects  almost  as  much  as  that  of  Manhattan  Island,  as  that  on 
which  New  York  is  situated  is  sometimes  called,  recedes;  so  that 
the  width  of  the  East  River  lying  between  them  undergoes  but 
litde  change  by  that  which  is  effected  in  the  direction  of  the  land. 
It  is  on  gaining  this  point,  that  the  port  of  New  York  exhibits  itself 
in  its  most  imposing  aspect;  the  city  side  of  the  East  River  being 
covered,  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  with  a  forest  of  masts  and 
rigging,  as  dense  and  tangled  in  appearance  as  a  cedar  swamp, 
whilst  numerous  vessels  of  all  sizes  and  rigs  are  also  to  be  seen, 
on  the  opposite  side,  moored  to  the  wharves  of  Brooklyn,  'i'he 
broad  and  deep  canal,  intervening  between  the  two  lines  of  vessels, 
is  alive  with  every  species  of  floating  craft,  from  the  tiny  wherry 
to  the  enormous  steamer,  ploughing  her  way  to  the  New  England 
coast.  Take  your  stand  here,  on  the  end  of  one  of  the  wharves, 
and  you  will  confess  that,  looking  down  towards  the  open  bay  be- 
yond, as  a  marine  view,  that  of  New  York,  from  this  point,  can 
scarcely  be  excelled. 

Following  the  hne  of  the  quays,  we  soon  come  to  the  slip  in 
Avhich  the  Adantic  steamers  lie.  It  is  now  occupied  by  the  "Great 
Western,"  just  arrived,  as  it  was  occupied  by  the  "President," 
before  she  started  on  her  last  and  ill-fated  voyage. 

The  town  on  our  right  has  now  entirely  divested  itself  of  every 
thing  like  a  suburban  appearance.  Massive  piles  of  warehouses 
line  the  shores;  their  long  and  gloomy  terraces,  upon  the  one  hand, 
confronting  the  shipping,  which  becomes  denser  and  more  dense  as 
we  descend  on  the  other.  The  broad  quays  are  covered  wiUi  the 
produce  of  every  clime ;  and  barrels,  sacks,  boxes,  hampers,  bales, 
and  hogsheads,  are  piled  in  continuous  ridges  along  the  streets, 
which  lead  at  riglit  angles  from  tlie  port,  and  which  are  widened 
where  they  abut  upon  it,  for  the  better  accommodation  of  business. 
In  diese  great  reservoirs  of  trade,  you  see  crowds  gathered,  here 
and  there,  around  one  wiio,  standing  on  a  pile  of  sacks  or  boxes, 
as  the  case  may  be,  is  vociferating  so  as  to  be  heard  over  all  the  din, 
and  gesticulating  like  one  rehearsing  his  part  in  a  melodrama.    He 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  59 

is  an  auctioneer,  and  is  busily  disposing  of  the  surrounding  goods 
by  auction.  Some  of  those  about  him,  who  are  cautiously  outbid- 
ding each  other,  are  merchants  and  traders  from  the  neighbouring 
counties;  some  are  from  the  interior  of  the  State,  and  others,  again, 
from  the  {nr  west.  Occasionally,  too,  you  may  discern  a  knot  of 
manufacturers  eagerly  inspecting  the  bursting  bales  of  cotton  which 
lie  around  them.  Some  of  these  are  from  New  England,  others 
from  Western  New  York,  but  the  greater  number  are  the  agents  of 
manufacturers  in  England. 

As  you  proceed  further  and  further  towards  the  Battery,  the  town 
encroaches  more  and  more  upon  the  quays,  leaving  the  whole  way, 
however,  a  practicable  thoroughfare  between  it  and  the  shipping. 
The  scene  is  now,  in  point  of  activity  and  animation,  beyond  all 
description,  whilst  the  noise  is  incessant  and  deafening;  the  sailors' 
busy  song,  and  the  draymen's  impatient  ejaculation,  being  occa- 
sionally distinguishable  amid  the  confused  and  incessant  din.  The 
vessels,  which  here  occupy  the  slips,  are  almost  all  either  coasters 
of  the  larger  class,  or  engaged  in  the  foreign  trade.  Passing  under 
their  bowsprits,  which  overhang  the  footway,  and  threaten  the  walls 
of  the  warehouses  with  invasion,  you  pass,  one  after  another,  the 
slips,  where  lie  the  different  lines  of  packets  which  ply  between 
New  York  and  Liverpool,  London,  and  Havre,  and  the  splendid 
vessels  belonging  to  which  formed  the  chief  medium  of  communi- 
cation between  Europe  and  America,  before  the  adventurous  Cunard 
started  his  unrivalled  line  of  steamers.  The  extensive  connexion 
which  New  York  has  formed  with  the  domestic  and  foreign  world, 
may  be  appreciated  by  observing  the  different  announcements  with 
which  the  quays  are  lined,  intimating  the  different  destinations  of 
the  vessels  that  are  moored  to  them.  In  addition  to  those  bound 
for  the  different  ports  on  the  coast,  are  scores  for  England,  dozens 
for  France,  many  for  the  Baltic,  several  for  Spain  and  the  Medi- 
terranean, a  few  for  the  coast  of  Africa,  numbers  for  Lidia,  China, 
and  South  America,  and  some  for  the  South  Seas,  Valparaiso,  and 
the  Sandwich  Islands.  Here  they  are,  about  to  spread  over  the 
face  of  the  earth,  to  collapse  again  on  the  same  spot  ere  many  months 
be  past,  to  pour  upon  the  city  the  produce  of  every  clime. 

We  have  now  Brooklyn  directly  opposite  to  us  on  the  left,  already 
alluded  to  as,  in  reality,  a  suburb  of  New  York;  if  a  city,  with  a 
corporation  and  municipal  government  of  its  own,  and  a  population 
of  60,000  souls,  in  other  words,  as  large  as  Aberdeen  or  Dundee, 
can  brook  the  appellation.  It  has  an  imposing  site  on  the  western 
extremity  of  Long  Island,  and  so  near  New  York  that  you  can  reach 
it  in  two  or  three  minutes  by  any  of  the  numerous  ferries  established 
between  them.  The  ground  which  it  occupies  slopes  gently  up 
from  the  East  River,  making  the  great  bulk  of  the  town  visible  from 
the  New  York  side;  whilst  in  its  immediate  vicinity,  and  on  a  com- 


60  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

manding  position,  may  be  seen  terraces  of  stately  and  elcg^ant  resi- 
dences, chielly  inhabited  by  the  merchants  of  New  York.  It 
transacts  a  ^ood  deal  of  business,  being  the  chief  source  of  supply 
for  Long  Island,  which  extends  for  150  miles  behind  it.  The 
western  terminus  of  the  Long  Island  railway,  a  link  in  one  of  the 
chains  of  communication  between  New  York  and  Boston,  is  here. 
As  on  the  New  York  side,  the  East  River  is  deep  to  the  shore,  and 
the  slips,  which  resemble  in  all  respects  those  of  the  greater  city, 
are  well  lined  with  vessels  from  ports  near  at  hand  and  afar  off. 

The  densest  part  of  New  York  now  intervenes  on  our  right,  be- 
tween us  and  Broadway.  It  is  a  perfect  maze  of  narrow  crooked 
streets,  intersecting  each  other  at  all  angles,  and  running  towards  al- 
most every  point  of  the  compass.  This  was  the  spot  where  the  foun- 
dations of  the  city  were  first  laid  by  the  Dutch,  whose  notions  of 
convenience  in  the  laying  out  of  a  town, — and  indeed  the  same  may 
be  said  of  those  of  most  other  people  at  the  same  period, — were 
none  of  the  brightest.  The  streets  were  left  to  develop  themselves 
in  the  most  irregular  manner,  the  obstructive  position  of  a  single 
house  frequently  diverting  a  thoroughiare  several  degrees  from  the 
straight  and  convenient  line,  which,  otherwise,  it  seemed  disposed 
to  follow.  Pearl-street,  the  chief  seat  of  the  wholesale  trade  of 
New  York,  was  to  me  both  a  puzzle  and  an  amusement.  I  seemed 
to  meet  it  every  where,  in  threading  my  way  through  this  mazy 
quarter  of  the  town,  and  never,  for  the  life  of  me,  could  follow  it 
for  many  yards  at  a  time.  It  always  manages  to  elude  one  in  spite 
of  oneself,  turning  off  from  him  when  he  least  expects  it,  and  cross- 
ing his  path  again  when  he  has  begun  to  think  it  irrecoverable. 
The  cause  of  all  this  is  explainable  by  its  origin,  which,  it  appears, 
was  neither  more  nor  less  than  a  cow-path  amongst  the  fields,  which, 
in  the  days  of  the  Dutch,  lay  behind  the  small  settlement  on  the 
water-side.  It  is  nearly  a  mile  in  length,  commencing  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Whitehall,  and  deflecting  from  the  line  of  Broadway 
for  some  distance  to  the  eastward,  after  which  it  pursues  a  cir- 
cuitous course  amongst  the  narrow  lanes  and  streets,  which  cha- 
racterize this  portion  of  the  town,  until  it  loses  itself  in  a  labyrintli 
of  them,  not  far  from  the  Park.  It  is  a  continuous  thoroughfare, 
although,  from  the  way  in  which  it  here  and  there  turns  up  in  por- 
tions across  the  stranger's  path,  it  seems  as  if  it  had  been  broken 
into  fragments,  which  had  been  severed  from  each  other  and  had 
not  yet  reunited. 

We  soon  arrive  at  the  spot  where  Wall-street,  the  Lombard-street 
of  New  York,  like  so  many  otliers  leading  down  from  Broadway, 
abuts  upon  the  quays.  It  is,  in  some  respects,  one  of  the  most 
interesting  sights  in  New  York;  and  as,  by  i)roU)nning  our  walk  to 
the  Battery,  we  shall  encounter  little  tliat  is  dilierent  from  that 
already  seen,  the  quays  extending  almost  to  the  Battery,  wc  cannot 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  61 

c'lo  better  than  here  diverg-e  and  take  a  stroll  up  Wall-street.     For  a 
few  hundred  yards  it  is  as  broad  and  spacious  as  Oxford-street, 
being  Hanked  on  either  side  with  lofty  warehouses,  whilst  piles  of 
all  descriptions  so  block  up  the  thoroughfare  and  side  walks,  that 
it  is  with  difFiculty  you  can  thread  your  way  through  them.     Beyond 
this,  and  where  it  intersects  tlie  first  street  running  parallel  to  the 
quays,  it  contracts  at  once  to  less  than  half  its  width  in  the  part 
immediately  in  contact  with  the  harbour;  and  it  is  between  this  and 
Broadway,  which  you  can  yet  scarcely  see,  from  a  slight  curve  in 
the  street,  that  it  exhibits  itself  in  its  more  peculiar  character.     It 
is  most  irregular  in  its  architecture,  almost  every  building  being  self- 
contained,  and  of  a  different  style,  plan,  size,  and  shape,  from  every 
thing  around  it.     It  presents  a  greater  number  of  stone  fronts,  some 
of  them  exceedingly  chaste  and  elegant,  tlian  any  other  street  in 
town,  brick  being  the  chief  material  employed  in  New  York  archi- 
tecture.    This  building,  with  the  pilastered  front,  is  a  bank ;   that 
beyond  is  an  insurance  office;  bevond  that  as"ain  is  a  commission 
merchant's  on  a  large  scale;  whilst  opposite  you  have  a  broker's 
establishment,  followed  by  two  or  three  insurance  offices,  which 
are  again  confronted  by  as  many  banks  across  the  way;  and  so  on 
alternating  in  this  way,  until  you  reach  the  custom-house,  about 
three-fourdis  of  the  way  up  to  Broadway.     The  buildings  are  all 
provided  with  basement  stories,  whicli  are  generally  occupied  by 
money-changers    and   solicitors.       That   noble-looking   pile,    con- 
structed of  grayish  blue  granite,  on  the  left,  which  we  are  now  ap- 
proaching, is  the  Merchants'  Exchange,  erected  since  the  great  fire 
in   1834,  when  the  old  Exchange,  with  the  Custom-house,  fell  a 
prey  to  the  flames.     A  finer  effect  can  scarcely  be  imagined  than 
that  produced  by  its  deeply  recessed  portico,  formed  by  a  lofty  and 
massive  colonnade,  the  shaft  of  each  Ionic  column,  which  is  fluted, 
being  composed  of  one  immense  block  of  granite,     A  low  dome 
surmounts  the  edifice,  which,  however,  is  but  partially  seen,  for  the 
Exchange  is  so  closel}^  hemmed  in   on   all  sides  by  buildings,  that 
no  good  view  can  be   obtained  of  it  from  a  distance.     The  great 
room  is  circular,  and  of  immense  diameter,  and  is  decorated  with 
lofty  Corinthian  columns  of  marble,  at  least  designed  to  be  Corin- 
thian, for  they  yet  want  their  capitals.     It  belongs  to  a  company  of 
merchants,  and  is  occupied  along  the  basement  and  at  the  back, 
chiefly  by  brokers.     It  is  made  fire-proof,  so  as  to  avert  from  it  the 
catastrophe  which  befell  its  predecessor. 

A  little  further  up,  and  on  our  right,  we  come  to  another  edifice 
of  a  very  different  character,  being  entirely  constructed  of  white 
marble,  in  the  form  of  a  Greek  temple  of  the  Doric  order.  This  is 
the  property  of  the  United  States,  being  the  Custom-house  for  the 
port  of  New  York.  It  has  two  fronts,  one  on  Wall-Street,  and  the 
other  on  a  street  behind,  running  parallel  to  it,  each  of  which  is 
VOL.  I. — G 


62  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

covered  by  a  portico  of  eight  massive  columns.  The  Wall-strccl 
front  is  approached  by  a  lofty  flight  of  marble  steps,  as  broad  as  the 
building  is  wide.  The  only' side  which  it  presents  is  deeply  pilas- 
tered,  something  like  the  Cornhill  side  of  our  own  Royal  Exchange. 
It  is  fire-proof  throughout,  the  roof  being  covered  with  immense 
slabs  of  marble.  Its  general  effect  is  not  so  imposing  as  that  of 
the  Exchange.  The  ambitious  marble  looks  less  durable  and  mass- 
ive than  the^'sober  granite;  but,  taking  it  all  in  ah,  it  is  decidedly 
one  of  the  finest  edifices  in  the  country. 

Between  the  Custom-house  and  Broadway,  which  is  now  in  full 
view.  Wall-street  partakes  more  of  tlie  character  of  Fore,  than  of 
Lombard-street  with  us.  Let  us,  therefore,  turn  sharp  to  the  left, 
and  make  for  the  Battery,  by  plunging  through  the  labyrinth  of 
streets  intervening  between  it  and  us.  But  before  doing  so,  you  ask, 
Avhat  noble  florid°Gothic  pile  is  that,  built  of  a  dark  brownish  stone, 
which  rises  in  such  stately  yet  buoyant  proportions  at  the  head  of 
Wall-street,  and  closes  up  the  vista  in  that  direction.  It  is  Trinity 
Church,  which  we  passed  more  than  two  hours  ago  in  our  M-alk 
up  Broadway.  It  is  but  a  few  years  since  it  was  finished,  and  it 
stands  in  an  enclosed  space,  on  the  western  side  of  Broadway,  di- 
recdy  opposite  the  junction  of  Wall-street  with  it.  It  is  large,  but 
it  is  not  by  its  dimensions  that  it  strikes  you,  particularly  if  you 
are  conversant  with  the  scale  on  which  ecclesiastical  edifices  have 
been  raised  elsewhere.  You  are  charmed  by  the  purity  and  ele- 
gance of  its  design,  as  well  as  by  the  exquisite  finish,  which  marks 
its  every  detail,  without  detracting,  in  the  slightest  degree,  from  its 
general  eff'ect.  It  is  strongly  and  massively  built,  but  the  fret-work 
with  which  it  is  profusely  ornamented,  gives  it  a  light  and  airy  ap- 
pearance. Its  beautiful  spire,  which  rises  for  nearly  300  feet,  re- 
sembles, in  the  elastic  spring  which  it  seems  to  take  from  the  ground, 
that  which  surmounts  the  Hall  of  the  General  Assembly  in  Edin- 
burgh. 'J'hc  spire  of  the  latter,  however,  which  is  one  of  the  most 
exquisite  things  extant  of  its  kind,  is  much  plainer  and  simpler, 
though  not  die  less  efiective  on  that  account,  than  diat  Mhich  forms 
the  chief  ornament  of  the  former.  Tliere  is  not  a  city  on  earth  to 
which  the  'i'rinity  Church  would  not  be  a  first-rate  architectural  ac- 
cession. 

There  is  something  both  curious  and  suggestive  in  its  position. 
It  stands,  pointing  loftily  to  heaven,  on  a  spot  visible  from  almost 
every  point  of  that  street  where  Mammon  is  most  eagerly  and  un- 
affectedly worshipped  in  America.  There  it  is,  as  if  perpetually 
to  remind  the  busy  throng  that  they  cannot  serve  two  masters.  It 
actually  seems  as  if,  in  a  moment  of  serious  reflection,  they  had  for 
their  future  benefit,  taken  tliat  important  text,  and  executed  it  in 
stone.  l]ut  it  is  in  vain  that  you  look  for  any  indication  of  a  seri- 
ous mood  now.    Amid  the  throng  hurrying  past  you  in  all  directions, 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  G*^ 

and  not  one  of  wliom  seems  to  notice  or  care  Ibr  yon,  von  can  dis- 
cern tlie  merchant's  thouohtllil  look,  the  calculating-  brow  ol"  iJie  mo- 
ney-changer, the  quick,  keen  glance  of  the  attorney,  the  nervous, 
twitching  countenance  of  the  speculator,  and  the  quite  business-like 
expression  of  the  otficial ;  whilst,  from  the  stream  of  faces  gliding 
^y  y<^"'  you  can  pick  out  some  flushed  with  hope,  others  clouded 
with  apprehension,  some  radiant  with  satisfaction,  and  others  shri- 
velled with  disappointment;  indicating,  respectively,  speculations 
that  are  promising  or  looking  adverse,  that  have  succeeded  or  failed. 
Trinity  Church  still  looks  down  upon  them,  but  how  few  of  that 
anxious,  quick-moving  crowed  seem  conscious  of  its  solemn  rebuke! 
Take  it  and  Wall-street  together,  and  what  a  moral  antithesis  they 
present !  But  its  effect,  if  it  ever  had  any,  has  been  evanescent ; 
and  it  is  only  when  Sunday  comes,  and  the  places  of  business  are 
closed,  and  when  the  bells  toll  and  the  c4iurches  are  open,  and  mul- 
titudes tlock  into  them  in  their  holiday  attire,  that  the  world  is 

perhaps— for  a  time,  forgotten. 

Leaving  Wall-street,  the  chosen  seat  of  every  species  of  specula- 
tion, and  the  great  financial  artery  of  New  York,  we  soon  find  our- 
selves, in  threading  our  way  to  the  Battery,  amongst  the  more  so- 
ber-looking, but  not  less  imposing  avenues  of  commerce.  Here 
we  are  in  Pearl-street,  which,  before  we  proceed  many  hundred 
yards,  w^e  have  lost  again ;  for,  when  we  were  least  on  our  guard, 
it  suddenly  turned  a  corner,  and  left  us.  We  shall  soon  come  to  it 
again,  as  a  miner  comes  to  a  vein,  which,  for  a  time,  he  has  lost. 
Both  it  and  the  adjacent  streets,  which  are  exceedingly  narrow  and 
very  lofty,  in  the  latter  respect  more  resembling  Paris  than  Lon- 
don, are  replete  with  every  variety  of  merchandise  which  the 
overcrowuled  warehouses  are  disgorging  upon  the  streets.  The 
narrow  side-w^alk  is  covered  with  goods,  whilst  the  thoroughfare, 
not  many  feet  wide,  is  also  here  and  there  invaded,  so  that  at  some 
points  you  have  no  alternative,  in  proceeding,  but  to  jump  over 
boxes,  or  squeeze  yourself,  as  you  best  can,  between  bales  of  mer- 
chandise. Nor  is  mid-air  even  free  from  the  intrusion;  for,  from 
many  lofty  cranes,  heavy  and  bulky  masses  are  dangling,  in  a  way 
that  makes  you  feel  nervous  for  your  head,  whilst  you  are  busy- 
taking  care  of  your  feet.  By-and-by  we  pass  the  Pearl-street  hotel, 
an  immense  brick  pile,  seven  stories  high.  It  occupies  the  heart 
of  what  is  yet  known  as  the  burnt  district,  that  which  was  devas- 
tated by  the  conflagration  of  1834.  It  is  iong  since  all  traces  of 
this  frightful  visitation  have  vanished;  the  only  memorial  of  it  now 
remaining  being  the  evident  newness  of  the  s'treets,  which  present 
on  all  hands  long  narrow^  vistas  of  lofty  red  brick  walls,  perforated 
with  innumerable  windows,  which  are  generally  protected  at  night 
by  massive  iron  shutters. 

Emerging  at  length  from  the  wholesale  quarter,  we  cross  White- 


Gl  TflK  VUTBBS  m 

vbrfv  fwaciilo'  -k.  sad  o4  i«t«<rti  oAft 

tarn  ^   ~   tipos  rfitf  bmad  Mwl 

vllfe  It  iirrwnu  J  on  f 

K                               .  it»r  •  r  up  from  Uw  Balm 

M»  dMoilx  with  •  r  Inattmd  of  Mtluic  ^ 

hat*  9%emt           :\  ibv  »ii|B»,  ini  m  ihrtr  Hmms  ataU  •» 

ihv^  i».     Jl 

MM  iluCMkca  o^^  r  uominjnnn  n  u* 

fot&  *    -»    mmul  T»-—    

Attr>  •  -  i     'nl  ■»■  

of  thr  WAV   l.»  tih:  *»th  f                                    ,                                         y. 

|ic)utul  I*  t  f*  of  •  hoc    pi;                       if* 

port.  Kh  4Mhl0  W4irnnc-pUcr    m 
Amenau     8tiU  lurihrr  up.  wc  romr  upon  tii^ai— f  for  AmUiy, 

■boot  forty  mile*  llir    Nrw    Jt            -a«»t.     It  w  ap- 

I         '              ^  utiiif  potat  (ar  ooo 

i>  iKi;  lit  rtr    «r   arr  aHrnsI  oi  !■• 

»..-  Ki   >•  .'jtrr   boa'-     •  'vinf   b©!'*--"    Srw 

York  3in!  ,'  tl»r  |»«»i t^pital  oi    -        '^titi-, 

I.  .•*  i»  .  f*.     H«»r  dimon*  rr 

eii..:::.   .  it.         i    )  rt    fho    OI 

br  .                                   .  Uir  ••                                    U              f  n»*  *''' 

•pprr  work*,  hrr  br                                          .  her  etpoadti  « 

a                                 ftv»u<  «»i 

bf  aiiti      I'             1^  at  lifT  iiuii.  \%  uica    i3    itki'  a  I'Uj^r  t  a 

•harp  *»«"«.,;•  ••kc  f"^    f  '  ■•'•  -   -■^  if  It  wtM''-'  V 

f^HII  !>•'  liiu^f  U!!fi  \>  ^  iintart,       11 

afO  ptmn  t»»<4t|l 

on  •  ibr  « 

roll.  <»  pcNiderMi*  n.     fUi* 

%  at  Albany  in  t  oun  aflrr  • 

for  '  we  her  iwcnitr  '  an   hour  tu 

V  in  lb-  ^'' 

bi»i 

hrr  . 

l4kiii   • 

•  hi  '  W 


andothrra  la 


I 

^  mak 
•  grtMi,  ^'ca  baluMfcl  lU  ■  wtU« 


TIIR  WESTERN  WORLD.  65 

wliich  loiintl  llioir  way  to  Albany  from  tiie  county  of  Onondao-a  and 
the  far  west  by  the  Erie  canal.  The  upper  slips  are  occupied  by 
barges  and  the  smaller  sailing  craft  engaged  in  the  river  trade.  But 
we  need  not  further  prolong  our  walk  in  this  direction.  The  quays, 
all  the  way  up,  are  spacious  and  convenient,  as  on  the  other  side, 
and  lined  with  rows  of  lofty  and  massive  warehouses.  Towards 
the  upper  end  of  the  city,  on  the  Hudson  side,  factories  of  the  kind 
more  particularly  appertaining  to  a  port,  make  their  appearance, 
whose  tall  chimneys  give  variety  to  this  view  of  llie  town.  Althoutrh 
business  on  this  side  does  not  wear  that  intensilied  aspect  which  it 
assumes  along  the  East  River,  the  Hudson  side  of  the  city  is  never- 
theless replete  with  all  the  indications  of  great  commercial  activity. 
And  when  the  trade  of  the  city  so  increases  that  it  cannot  find  ade- 
quate accommodation  on  the  East  River  side,  the  lower  portion  of 
the  port  on  the  Hudson  will  exhibit  a  similar  scene  to  that  now 
daily  witnessed  on  the  otiier  flank  of  the  town. 

The  citizen  of  London  has  ample  opportunity  of  discovering  that 
there  are,  within  tiie  precincts  of  the  city,  as  many  wonders  beneath 
as  above  the  surface  of  the  ground.     Whenever  a  shaft  is  sunk,  no 
matter  for  what  purpose,  into  Piccadilly,  the  Strand,  Cheap-side,  or 
any  of  the  oilier  great  thoroughfares,  liie  number  of  parallel  iron 
pipes,  togetlier  with  the  apparatus  for  sewerage  disclosed,  is  really 
astonishinir-     New  York  has  also  its  underground  marvels.      Until 
recci  tiy,  the  iron  tubes  which  permeated  its  site  were  solely  those 
which  were  required  to  distribute  over  the  city  the  gas  with  which 
it  is  lighted.     New  York  was  then  but  ill-sujjplied  with  water,  the 
.'springs  wiliiiji  it  being  but  few,  and  the  water  procured  from   them 
being  of  an  inlerior  description.     It  was  to  remedy  this  great  defect 
that  the  city,  some  years  ago,  undertook  one  of  tlie  most  gigantic 
worlds  to  bti  lound  chhvr  in  the  new  world  or  in  the  old.     'JMiat  which 
it  wanUnl  was  a  copious  supply  of  excellent  water.     On  examination 
it  was  found,  tliat  the  nearest  source  whence  that  could  be  procured, 
in  the  greatest  al)undance  and  attended  with   the  greatest  facilities 
for  conducting  it  to  the  city,  was  about  forty  miles  distant  from  it. 
About  tiiat  distance   above   the   town,  the  Croton   River,   a    pure 
limpid  stream,  empties  itself  into   tjje  Hudson.     The  most  feasible 
sciieme  that  presented  itself  was  to  divert  a  portion  of  its  current  to 
New  York.     To  accomplish  this,  a  stupendous  aqueduct  has  been 
constructed    through    the  solid  rock,  over  the    valley,  and  across 
stream  after  stream,  to  the  city.     It  commences  five  miles  above 
the  junction  of  the  Croton  with  the  Hudson,  audi  cannot  do  better 
than  here  transcribe  the  description  of  it  given  in  the  United  States 
Gazetteer. 

"The  dam  is  250  feet  long,  seventy  wide  at  bottom  and  seven 
at  top,  and  forty  feet  high,  built  of  stone  and  cement.  It  elevates 
the  water,  so  as  to  form  a  pond  five  miles  long,  covering  400  acres, 


66  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

and  containinir  500,000,000  gallons  of  water.     From  this  dam,  the 
aqueduct  is  continued,  in  some  parts,  by  tunnelling  through  solid 
rocks,  and  crossing  valleys  by  embankments,  and  brooks  by  ducts, 
to  the  Harlaem  River,  a  distance  of  33  miles.     It  is  built  of  stone, 
brick,  and  cement,  arched  over  and  under,  six  feet  nine  inches  wide 
at  bottom,  seven  feet  five  inches  at  the  top  of  the  side  walks,  and 
eio-ht  feet  five  inches  high.     It  has  a  descent  of  thirteen  inches  and 
a  quarter  per  mile,  and  will  discharge  60,000,000  gallons  in  twenty- 
four  hours.      It  will    cross  the  Harlaem  River  on    a    magnificent 
stone  bridge,  1,450  feet  long,  Avith  fourteen  piers,  eight  of  eighty 
feet  span,  and  seven  of  fifty  feet  span,  and  114  feet  from  tide-water 
to  the  top.     This  bridge  will  cost  more  than  900,000  dollars.     It  is 
in  progress,  and,  for  the  present,  the  water  is  brought  across   the 
river  in  an  iron  pipe,  laid  as  an  inverted  syphon.     The  receiving 
reservoir  is  at  86th  street,  38  miles  from  the  Croton  dam,  covering 
thirty-five    acres,  and    containing    150,000,000    of   gallons.      The 
water  is  thence  conveyed  to  the  distributing  reservoir  on  Murray's 
hill,  40th   Street,  in   iron  pipes.      This  covers    four  acres,  and   is 
built  of  stone  and  cement,  forty-three  feet  high  above  the  street,  and 
contains  20,000,000  of  gallons.     Thence  the  water  is  distributed 
over  the  city  in  iron  pipes,  laid  so   deep  under  ground  as  to   be 
secure  from    frost.     The  whole  cost  of  the  work  will   be    about 
12,000,000  of  dollars.     No  city  in  the  world  is  now  more  plentifully 
supplied  with  pure    and  wholesome  water  than  the   city  of  New 
York,  and  the  supply  would  be  abundant,  if  the  population  were 
five  times  its  present  number." 

The  Croton  not  only  now  circulates,  as  its  life-blood  through  the 
city,  but  its  chief  protection  from  the  ravages  of  fire. 

New  York  is,  after  New  Orleans,  the  greatest  city  in  the  United 
S  at^s.  Public  amusements  are  much  in  vogue;  and  the  town  is 
amply  supplied  with  the  means  of  pandering  to  the  taste  for  them. 
Balls,  concerts,  ballets,  and  operas,  are  well  attended  throughout 
the  year;  and  ti  e  fashionable  quarters,  during  winter,  present  one 
continued  scene  of  gaiety.  With  all  this,  the  New  Yorkers  com- 
bine a  good  deal  of  literary  taste;  and  if  the  theatre  is  nightly  well 
frequented,  so  also  is  the  library  and  the  lecturr-room.  The  city 
has  several  literary  institutions,  some  originating  with  associations, 
and  others  the  result  of  individual  munificence. 

As  in  Paris,  a  great  deal  of  New  York  life  is  spent  out  of  doors. 
During  summer,  the  oppressive  heat  drives  people  into  the  open 
air,  particularly  in  the  cool  of  the  evening;  and  during  winter  tliey 
are  tempted  out  to  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  sleighing.  At  the  close 
of  a  summer  afternoon,  Broadway,  particularly  between  the  Battery 
and  the  Park,  is  crowded  with  promenaders  of  both  sexes,  gene- 
rally dressed  in  the  newest  cuts,  and  in  the  most  showy  mannn  ; 
for  the  New  Yorkers  take  their  fashions  direct  from  Paris,  in  which 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  67 

tlicy  come  much  nearer  the  Parisians  than  we  do.  It  is  impossible 
to  meet  with  a  more  finished  coxcomb  than  a  Broadway  exquisite, 
or  a  "Broadway  swell,"  which  is  the  designation  attached  to  him 
on  the  spot.  Whilst  multitudes  are  promenading  to  and  fro,  there 
are  generally  groups  of  strangers,  either  seated  in  comfortable  arm- 
chairs, disposed  in  dozens  on  the  wide  pavement,  in  front  of  the 
hotels,  or  standing  upon  the  steps  leading  into  them,  picking  their 
teeth,  to  indicate  to  the  passers  by  that  they  have  just  risen  from  a 
champagne  dinner. 

New  York  abounds  in  churches,  many  of  which,  from  their 
graceful  proportions  and  neat  facades,  add  much  to  the  beauty  of 
the  town.  Notwithstanding  its  gaiety,  it  is  a  great  centre  of  reli- 
gious action,  the  May  meetings  in  New  York  exciting  as  much  in- 
terest amongst  a  portion  of  the  population  as  our  Exeter  Hall 
assemblages  do  about  the  same  period  of  the  year  amongst  a  part 
of  the  population  of  London.  What  Baltimore  is  to  the  Catholic, 
New  York  is  to  the  Episcopal  denomination  in  America — its  chief 
focus  and  stronghold;  there  being  fewer  churches  in  the  world 
more  wealthily  endowed  (not  by  the  State)  than  the  Episcopal 
Church  of  New  York. 

The  city  is  also  an  important  pivot  of  political  action.  Its  in- 
fluence is,  however,  in  this  respect  almost  exclusively  confined  to 
the  State,  in  one  corner  of  which  it  is  situated.  It  exercises,  for 
instance,  but  litde  influence  upon  the  population  of  New  Jersey, 
immediately  across  the  Hudson.  The  ultra-democracy  of  New 
York  are  extremely  excitable;  but,  although  political  excitement 
sometimes  runs  very  high,  it  is  seldom  that  it  results  in  any  outrage 
to  either  person  or  property.  The  great  increase  recently  effected 
in  the  number  of  polling  places  at  elections,  has  gready  conduced 
to  the  preservation  of  public  order. 

New  York  has  upwards  of  thirty  banks,  whose  combined  capital 
exceeds  thirty  millions  of  dollars;  and  from  thirty  to  forty  insurance 
companies,  possessing  an  aggregate  capital  of  more  than  twelve 
millions.  Its  future  destiny  has  been  partly  foreshadowed  in  its 
past  progress.  The  aggregate  tonnage  of  the  arrivals  in  the  port 
of  New  York,  in  1810,  amounted  to  275,000  tons;  in  1840  it 
had  swelled  to  upwards  of  618,000  tons.  This  is  exclusive  of 
steamboats,  of  which  there  are  nearly  a  hundred,  more  or  less,  con- 
nected with  the  port,  and  of  the  smaller  craft  engaged  in  the  coasting 
and  inland  trade.  But  its  rapid  growth  is  more  correctly  indicated 
by  the  increase  of  its  population.  In  1800,  it  contained  60,000 
souls;  in  1840,  its  population  exceeded  312,000;  in  1845,  this 
latter  number  had  risen  to  371,000;  so  that,  in  the  lifetime  of  a 
generation,  the  population  had  increased  more  than  six-fold!  In 
1850,  it  is  probable  that  it  will  exceed  430,000.  When  we  con- 
sider the  extent,  resources,  and  capabilities  of  the  immense  region 


68  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

wliicli  it  supplies,  and  that  that  region  is  yet  but  in  llie  infancy  of 
its  progress,  it  is  not  easy  to  set  limits  to  the  growth  of  New  York. 
The  Americans  are  justly  very  proud  of,  and  its  residents  passion- 
ately attached  to,  it.  On  driving  up  to  the  Astor  House,  after 
landing  from  Boston,  a  young  New  Yorker,  who  had  been  in 
Europe  for  more  than  a  year,  was  in  the  same  sleigh  with  me. 
*' There  goes  the  old  city!"  said  he  in  his  endiusiasm,  as  we  en- 
tered Broadway;  "I  could  almost  jump  out  and  hug  a  lamp-post!" 


CHAPTER  V. 


COMMERCE    AND    COMMERCIAL    POLICY    OF    THE    UNITED    STATES. 

Progress  of  American  Commerce. — Its  present  Extent,  and  the  variety  of 
Channels  in  which  it  exhibits  itself. — Foreign  and  Internal  Trade. — Ad- 
vantages of  America  for  prosecviting  both. — The  effects  of  American  In- 
dustry most  perceptible  in  the  increase  of  the  latter. — Commercial  Cha- 
racter of  the  People. — American  Commerce  judged  of  by  its  Monuments. 
— Revulsions  in  Trade  in  America. — The  commercial  Question  in  Ame- 
rica politically  considered. — The  Great  Interests  in  conflict  with  each 
other. — Views,  Objects,  and  Arguments,  of  the  Protectionists  and  Free- 
Traders  respectively. — The  "American  System." — Constitutional  Ques- 
tions involved  in  the  Dispute. — Brief  Account  of  the  Struggle  between 
Parties.— Free-Trade  at  present  in  the  Ascendant.— Present  Position  of 
Parties. — Future  Prospects. — Commercial  Destiny  of  America.— Retlec- 
tions  suggested  thereby. 

From  no  Other  point  can  the  commercial  condition  of  America 
be  so  advantageously  surveyed  as  from  the  trading  and  commercial 
emporium  of  the  continent.  I  propose,  therefore,  before  leaving 
New  York,  to  compress  within  the  compendious  limits  of  a  single 
cliapter,  a  succinct  account  of  the  commercial  progress  and  policy 
of  the  Republic.  iMy  object  is  to  present,  at  a  glance,  to  the  reader, 
an  adequate  idea  of  the  extent  to  which  American  enterprise  has, 
in  this  respect,  been  pushed,  and  the  variety  of  objccls  which  it 
embraces  in  its  operations;  and  to  enable  him  thoroughly  to  appre- 
ciate the  exact  position  of  each  of  the  great  interests  which,  as  with 
us,  have  constantly  struggled  for  suj)remacy,  and  the  disputes  be- 
tween which  have  not  even  yet  been  finally  adjusted. 

The  limits  to  which  I  have  confined  myself,  will  be  an  ample 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  69 

guarantee  tliat  the  reader  is  not  about  to  be  overwliebiied  by  elabo- 
rate calculations,  or  overborne  by  a  repulsive  array  of  statistical 
tables.  My  wish  is,  so  far  as  this  humble  effort  goes,  to  popularize 
the  subject,  by  combining  interest  with  instruction,  carefully  avoid- 
ing figures,  except  when  indicative  of  great  results,  or  absolutely 
necessary  to  subserve  the  purposes  of  illustration. 

It  is  with  no  desire  to  bespeak  a  surreptitious  sympathy,  that  I 
here  allude  to  the  difficulty  of  the  subject.  Fertile  and  ramified  as 
it  is,  it  were  easy  to  enlarge  upon  it,  as  compared  with  the  task  of 
abridging  without  crippling  it.  Despairing  of  complete  success,  I 
nevertheless  proceed — in  the  hope  of  conveying  at  least  some  use- 
liil  instruction — in  the  first  place,  to  lay  before  the  reader  the  gene- 
ral results  of  the  application,  to  its  abounding  resources,  of  the  di- 
versified activity  of  America. 

It  must  be  borne  in  mind,  that  the  whole  fabric  of  American 
commerce  is  the  product  of  but  two  centuries  of  human  industry, 
acting,  however,  under  the  influence  of  extraordinaiy  stimulants. 
Strictly  speaking,  its  birth  should  not  date  beyond  the  peace  of 
1783,  when  the  young  Republic  took  it  into  her  own  hands,  un- 
trammelled by  navigation  laws  or  other  imperial  restrictions.  But 
even  tracing  its  era  from  the  first  epoch  of  western  colonization,  we 
find  Americancommerce  overtaking  and  gradually  outstripping  com- 
mercial systems  which  had  flourished  for  fully  two  hundred  years 
before  its  very  germ  was  laid,  until  it  now  acknowledges  no  rival, 
save  in  its  ancient  parent,  from  whose  thrall  it  broke  loose  when  its 
freedom  of  action  could  no  long-er  be  controlled. 

In  estimating  the  progress  of  Transatlantic  commerce,  it  is  advisa- 
ble to  go  no  further  back  than  the  period  from  which  commenced  the 
most  regular,  unbroken,  and  authentic  accounts  of  its  operations.  In 
the  year  1790,  the  condition  of  American  commerce  was  such  as  may 
be  readily  appreciated  from  the  following  general  statement  of  its 
results.  The  total  value  of  the  imports  of  that  year  did  not  exceed 
5,000,000/.  sterling,  the  value  of  the  exports  being  about  the  same 
amount.  If  we  descend  a  period  of  fifty-five  years,  its  progress 
may  be  estimated  from  a  glance  at  the  results  of  the  commercial 
operations  of  1845.  In  that  year  the  value  of  the  imports  exceed- 
ed 26,000,000/.  ;  in  other  w^ords,  they  had  quintupled  in  little 
more  than  half  a  century.  The  value  of  the  exports  was  but  a  frac- 
tion below  the  same  amount,  exhibiting  a  corresponding  increase. 
This  rapid  increase  may  be  better  illustrated  by  a  glance  at  what 
the  last  quarter  of  a  century  has  done.  The  aggregate  value  of 
exports  for  the  year  ending  .30th  June,  18^21,  was  a  little  upwards 
of  14,000,000/.  sterling  ;  whilst  that  of  the  year  1845  was,  as  al- 
ready intimated,  about  26,000,000/.,  showing  an  increase  of  nearly 
100  per  cent.  The  value  of  the  imports  of  1821  was  also  upwards 
of  14,000,000/.,  which,  as   compared  with  that  of  the  imports  of 


70  THE  WESTERN  \YORLD. 

1845,  gives  a  similar  result  to  that  in  the  case  of  exports.*  There 
is  a  feature  in  tlic  export  trade  worth  alluding-  to,  as  exhibiting  still 
more  strons-ly  the  rapid  development  of  American  wealth.  Of  the 
whole  exports  of  1821,  nearly  one-third  consisted  of  foreign  mer- 
chandise re-exported  ;  whereas  the  re-exports  of  similar  merchan- 
dise in  1845,  scarcely  amounted  to  one-seventh  of  the  aggregate 
exports  of  that  year.  During  the  former  year,  only  two-thirds  of 
the  aggregate  exports  were  of  domestic  produce  ;  during  the  latter, 
more  than  six-sevenths.  This  shows  that  the  development  of  do- 
mestic industry  has  been  at  a  ratio  much  more  rapid  than  the  mere 
aggregate  commercial  results  would  lead  one  to  suppose. 

It  is  unnecessary  any  further  to  pursue  this  branch  of  the  subject, 
sufficient  being  laid  before  the  reader  to  enable  him  to  appreciate  the 
rapid  strides  at  which  the  commercial  advances  of  America  have 
been  made.  The  objects  embraced  in  the  active  and  enterprising 
trade  of  the  United  States,  both  foreign  and  domestic,  are  as  multi- 
farious as  may  well  be  conceived.  Its  great  staples,  however,  con- 
sist of  cotton,  tobacco,  flour,  sugar,  and  rice.  Very  nearly  one-half 
of  the  aggregate  exports  of  1845  consisted  of  raw  cotton  alone,  to- 
bacco coming  next  in  the  scale,  and  then  flour.  The  directions 
which  this  commerce  has  taken,  are  about  as  numerous  as  are  the 
objects  which  it  embraces,  and  are  well  indicated  by  the  character 
of  the  shipping  with  which  New  York  is  all  but  begirt.  There  is 
not  a  sea  upon  earth  but  carries  the  enterprising  flag  of  America; 
not  a  port,  except  such  as  they  are  absolutely  prohibited,  with  which 
the  Americans  have  not  established  a  trading  intercourse. 

Nor  is  this  all.  The  foreign  trade  alone  is  but  an  imperfect  ex- 
ponent of  tlie  progress  of  American  industry.  The  expansion  of 
that  trade  does  not  wholly  rest  with  the  Americans  tliemselves:  it  is 
regulated  by  the  measure  of  other  people's  wants  as  well  as  by  that 
of  their  own.  It  is  only  when  w^e  look  at  the  internal  trade  of  the 
United  States,  which  is  receiving  from  the  hourly  development  of 
their  own  wants  such  gigantic  accessions,  that  we  become  fully 
aware  of  the  rapidity  with  which  the  material  interests  of  that 
country  are  unfolding  themselves,  and  of  the  real  extent  of  that  im- 
petuous activity,  which  is  productive  of  results  without  parallel  in 
the  economic  history  of  the  world. 

There  is  no  other  country  which  can  boast  of  advantages  superior 
to  those  of  the  United  States,  for  the  purposes  either  of  foreign 
commerce,  or  internal  trade.  For  the  one,  their  geographical  po- 
sition, is  eminently  favourable  ;  for  the  other,  the  variety  of  their 
productions,  and  their  physical  conformation,  admirably  adapt  them. 

*  From  official  accounts  recently  published,  it  appears  that  the  value  of 
the  exports  and  imports  for  the  past  year  has,  in  either  case,  exceeded  3'^,- 
000,000/.  sterling.  This  shows  an  increase  in  both  trades  of  about  23  per 
cent,  in  three  years.     So  much  for  the  free-trade  tarilF  of  1810. 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  71 

Siluated  almost  midway  between  its  two  extremes,  they  present  a 
double  front  to  the  Old  World,  trom  one  of  M'hich  they  can  hold 
direct  communication  with  Europe,  and  from  the  other,  a  commu- 
nication, as  direct,  with  Asia.  The  time,  indeed,  is  not  far  distant, 
when  Eastern  Asia  and  Western  Europe  will  find  themselves  most 
accessible  to  each  other  through  the  continent  of  America.  The 
United  States  are  thus  not  only  well  situated  for  the  purposes  of 
their  own  trade,  but  apparently  destined  to  be  the  common  ground 
on  which  the  two  great  sections  of  the  Old  World  will  yet  meet  for 
the  transaction  of  theirs.  This  advantage  of  position  plays  an  im- 
portant part  in  the  development  of  the  foreign  trade  of  the  United 
States  ;  in  further  estimating  their  capacity  for  M'hich,  we  cannot 
overlook  the  superabundance  of  their  exchangeable  commodities. 
As  to  their  internal  trade.  Nature  herself  has  thrown  every  facility 
in  its  way.  With  every  variety  of  soil,  climate,  and  production, 
America  possesses  in  its  vast  rivers,  estuaries,  and  lakes,  those 
means  of  intercommunication,  the  want  of  which  can  only  be 
supplied  in  other  countries,  even  when  physical  obstacles  are  not 
insurmountable,  by  time,  and  by  enormous  outlays.  Were  the 
people  apathetic,  instead  of  being  enterprising  to  a  degree,  the 
advantages  which  their  country  enjoyed  in  this  respect,  would  of 
themselves,  be  provocative  to  industry  and  interchange.  Such  en- 
ergies as  the  American  people  possess,  acting  on  such  resources,  in 
the  midst  of  such  advantages,  could  be  productive  of  but  one  result. 
Happily,  too,  they  avoided  a  rock  on  which  the  bark  of  their  pros- 
perity, if  not  shattered  to  pieces,  would  have  been  greatly  strained. 
That  was  not  the  country  for  artificial  barriers,  where  nature  had 
levelled  almost  all  physical  obstructions  to  trade. 

The  internal  intercourse  of  America  is  as  free  as  are  the  winds 
which  sweep  over  its  surface,  and  the  waters  which  irrigate  its  val- 
leys. The  interchange  of  their  commodities,  too,  is  as  free  as  the 
people  are  themselves  in  their  personal  intercommunication.  For 
municipal  purposes,  the  different  States  have  their  fixed  known 
boundaries  ;  but,  in  an  economical  light,  they  have  no  frontiers. 
It  is  when  we  take  all  this  into  account,  that  their  progress  appears 
less  a  miracle  than  a  necessity.  AVith  unflinching  energy,  unbound- 
ed resources,  and  an  unfettered  internal  trade,  is  it  any  wonder  that 
they  are  so  rapidly  transforming  the  whole  aspect  of  the  country  ? 
How  long  could  the  wilderness  withstand  the  persevering  assaults 
of  a  civilization  Avhich  brings  such  appliances  to  bear  ?  If  any 
one  wants  an  illustration  of  the  advantages  of  free  trade,  he  has 
only  to  look  at  the  internal  aspect  of  American  commerce,  and  at  the 
advances  which  are  being  daily  made  under  its  auspices  by  the  great 
Anglo-American  Zollverein. 

A  circumstance  which  has  a  great  deal  to  do  with  the  progress  of 
America  in  this  respect,  is  the  essentially  commercial  spirit  of  the 


72  THE  WESTERN  WORLD, 

people.  This  spirit,  though  not  peculiar  to  them,  is  nowhere  else 
so  universally,  or  so  unreservedly  displayed.  There  is  no  class  af- 
fecting to  scorn  the  avocations  of  trade — no  one  compromises  his 
position  by  being  a  trader.  "With  every  stimulus  to  exertion,  idle- 
ness is  not,  in  America,  deemed  an  honourable  pursuit.  The  in- 
ducements to  occupation  are  great.  A  growing  community  has  in- 
creasing wants,  which  will  not  go  unsupplied  if  it  has  the  means 
of  supplying  them.  This  is  the  case  in  the  United  States;  the  de- 
mand is  with  them  in  a  state  of  as  constant  progression  as  is  the 
supply.  The  basis  for  enterprise  expands  as  the  population  in- 
creases; and  if  new  actors  come  into  the  field,  there  are  new  objects 
for  them  to  operate  upon.  The  consequence  is,  that  business  never, 
for  any  length  of  time,  assumes  in  America  that  overdone  aspect, 
which  is  too  often  familiar  to  it  in  older  and  less-favoured  commu- 
nities. Besides,  it  is  the  rapid  road  to  wealth;  and  wealth  gives 
great,  if  not  the  greatest  consideration  in  America.  The  learned 
professions  are  not  regarded  as  a  whit  more  honourable,  whilst  they 
are  but  slenderly  remunerative.  The  youth  who  wants  speedily 
to  make  a  figure,  sees  the  shortest  road  to  the  attainment  of  his 
wishes  through  the  avenues  of  business.  It  is  thus  that  they  flock 
in  crowds  from  the  rural  districts  into  the  towns,  the  farmers'  sons 
preferring  the  yard  stick,  with  its  better  prospects,  to  the  plough. 
>Some  of  those  who  have  a  more  intellectual  ambition,  become  law- 
yers and  politicians;  but  the  great  majority  get  as  soon  as  possible 
behind  a  counter,  over  which  they  soon  jump,  to  become  merchants 
on  their  own  account.  Children,  too,  very  early  discover  the 
trading  tendencies  of  a  people  who  want  many  things,  and  have 
plenty  of  something  or  other  to  give  in  exchange  for  them.  At 
school  their  bartering  propensities  soon  manifest  themselves,  and 
before  they  leave  it  they  become  traders,  both  in  habit  and  disposi- 
tion. The  bent  of  their  lives  is  early  taken,  and  seldom,  if  ever, 
lost.  What  a  nation  thus  disposed  can  do,  is  illustrated  by  what 
a  people  thus  habituated  has  done. 

We  frequently  judge  of  a  system  from  its  monuments.  Ameri- 
can commerce  need  not  shrink  from  being  already  tried  by  this  test. 
Of  the  lordly  cities  which  it  has  reared  upon  the  sea-board  there  is 
no  occasion  to  speak;  its  rapid  development  is,  perhaps,  still  more 
visible  in  the  effects  which  it  produces  in  the  interior.  Under  its 
fostering  influence  communities  start  up,  as  it  were  by  magic,  in 
the  wilderness  :  the  spot  which  is  to-day  a  desert,  may,  thirty  years 
hence,  be  the  site  of  a  flourishing  town,  containing  as  many  thou- 
sand souls.  These  inland  towns  are  being  constanUv  brouoht  to 
the  surface  by  the  commercial  fermentation,  which  never  ceases. 
They  arise  under  no  other  influence  than  that  of  commerce — they 
come  forth  at  the  bidding  of  no  other  voice.  Crags  and  fastnesses 
arc  not  sought  in  America  as  sites  for  towns.     The  harbour,  or  the 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  73 

river's  bank,  or  the  neighbourhood  of  the  canal,  is  the  place  where 
they  arise;  and  what  commerce  does  in  this  respect,  no  other  power, 
unassisted  by  it,  can  do.  Washington  was  designed  for  a  great 
city;  but  there  being  no  commercial  demand  for  it,  the  fostering 
care  of  the  federal  government,  from  which  so  much  was  expected, 
has  ludicrously  failed  in  making  it  so.  Imperial  power  may  have 
reared  a  capital  on  the  swamps  of  the  Neva;  but  it  is  commerce 
alone  that  could  call  forth,  and  sustain,  a  vast  emporium  on  the 
sedgy  delta  of  the  Mississippi. 

Occasional  revulsions  seem  every  where  to  rank  with  the  neces- 
sities of  commercial  existence.  In  America  they  are  not  unfre- 
quent,  and  are  sometimes  most  calamitous.  In  no  other  country  is 
the  credit  system  carried  to  such  an  extent.  Favourable  as  this 
may  be  to  enterprise,  it  sometimes  leads  to  great  abuses.  In  the 
transactions  of  1836  and  1837,  we  have  a  memorable  instance  of 
this.  The  imports  of  these  years  were  enormous,  far  exceeding  the 
amount  already  noticed  as  constituting  the  value  of  those  of  1S45. 

The  inflation  of  the  currency,  and  the  expansion  of  the  credit 
system  in  every  department  of  trade,  were  then  at  their  height. 
Previously  to  1825,  the  loans  of  the  United  States  Bank  scarcely 
varied  in  their  annual  amount  to  the  extent  of  three  millions  of  dol- 
lars. But  shortly  before  the  memorable  years  in  American  com- 
merce above  alluded  to,  they  had  expended  upwards  of  60  per 
cent,  in  the  brief  space  of  two  years.  The  swarm  of  country 
banks  followed  this  example,  and  the  train  was  thus  laid  for  the 
explosion  which  took  place.  Such  was  the  glut  of  merchandise 
in  the  hands  of  the  importers,  that  they  laid  aside  the  ordinary  rules 
of  caution  in  parting  with  their  stock.  The  transactions  which 
ensued  were  not  more  detrimental  to  the  credit,  than  they  were 
perilous  to  the  commercial  morality  of  the  country.  Capital  was 
not  felt  to  be  a  want — credit  M'as,  and  did,  every  thing.  Young 
men  forsook  their  employment,  fled  to  the  sea-board,  procured  stock 
upon  easy  terms,  returned,  and  set  up  for  themselves;  and  the 
country  swarmed  with  a  new  race  of  traders,  in  possession  of  no 
visible  means.  The  consequences  were  not  long  in  displaying 
themselves,  and  the  disasters  of  the  period  are  the  best  commentary 
upon  the  transactions  which  led  to  them.  This,  it  is  true,  was  an 
extraordinary  crisis,  but  some  of  its  accompaniments  are  perma- 
nent features  in  the  American  commercial  svstem.  Credit  is  too 
easily  had,  particularly  by  the  young  and  inexperienced,  and,  con- 
sequently, frequently  abused.  Of  the  number  of  young  men  who 
set  up  for  themselves,  the  proportion  who  soon  afterwards  become 
bankrupt  is  great.  I  remember  when  it  was  a  common  saying, 
that  if  a  man  wanted  money,  he  had  only  to  go  and  get  stock,  set 
up  business,  and  fail  when  it  was  most  expedient.  But  this  evil 
in  the  system  has  a  manifest  tendency  to  cure  itself. 
VOL.  I, — 7 


74  THE  WESTERN  WORLD.- 

Having  thus  glanced  at  the  general  features  of  American  trade,  it 
may  be  as  well  now  briefly  to  direct  the  reader's  attention  to  the 
commercial  question,  poHtically  considered,  in  the  United  States* 
With  a  view  to  his  better  understanding  the  policy  of  the  general 
government,  the  motives  which  have  influenced  that  policy,  and  the 
etfect  which  it  has  had,  particularly  upon  the  foreign  commerce  of 
the  country — it  is  necessary  to  bring  at  once  upon  the  stage  the 
great  interests  which,  almost  since  the  date  of  its  independence^ 
have  made  a  common  battle-ground  of  the  tariffs  of  the  Union. 

These  are  four  in  number — the  manufacturing,  the  commercial, 
the  cotton-o-rowing-,  and  the  ao-ricultural  interests.  In  the  commer- 
cial  may  be  included  the  shipping  interest;  whilst  with  the  manu- 
facturers may  be  classed  the  sugar-growers,  their  interests  being 
identical,  although  their  occupations  are  dissimilar.  Between  these 
interests  the  great  object  of  strife  has  been  for  high  or  low  tariffs* 
Sometimes,  in  the  struggles  which  have  taken  place,  they  have 
been  equally  divided;  at  other  times,  by  adroit  manoeuvring,  the 
preponderance  in  numbers  has  been  secured  for  one  side  or  the 
other.  The  commercial  legislation  of  the  country  indicates  the 
strength  of  parties  in  the  different  contests  wdiich  took  place. 

It  will  be  seen  at  once  that  the  difficulty  chiefly  lay,  as  it  still  lies, 
between  the  manufacturers  and  the  cotton  growers.  The  commer- 
cial interest  has  almost  invariably  sided  with  the  latter,  although 
they  have  not  always  been  unanimous  amongst  themselves.  The 
agriculturists  have  acted  a  wavering  part  in  the  protracted  struggle, 
until  lately  throwing  their  weight  generally  into  the  scale  of  the 
manufacturers;  a  circumstance  which  alone  enabled  the  latter  not 
only  to  maintain  their  ground,  but  generally  to  predominate  in  the 
national  councils.  Had  the  farmers  been,  from  the  first,  true  to 
their  own  interest,  the  contest  would  have  been  of  short  duration. 
The  manufacturers  unaided  could  not  have  kept  the  field,  and  a 
mere  revenue  tariff  would,  long  ere  this,  have  been  ingrafted  as  a 
permanent  feature  upon  American  policy.  Hitherto,  the  brunt  of  the 
battle,  on  the  free-trade  side,  has  been  borne  by  the  cotton-growers, 
who,  until  lately,  have  been  deserted  by  those  upon  whose  co-ope- 
ration they  might  naturally  rely;  whilst  their  allies  in  the  commer- 
cial interest  have  been  too  apathetic  to  render  them  any  very  effi- 
cient assistance.  Bur,  notwithstanding  the  inequality  of  the  battle 
which  they  have  had  to  wage,  they  have  managed,  by  the  inherent 
justice  of  their  cause,  the  excellence  of  their  tactics,  and  the  energy 
and  talent  of  their  leaders,  to  preserve  an  unbroken  front  under  re- 
peated discomfitures,  until  tliey  have  at  length  apparently  turned  the 
tide  in  their  favour  so  effectually,  that  it  is  not  likely  again  to  leave 
them  stranded.  The  history  of  the  struggle  is  interesting,  and  may 
be  briefly  sketched. 

As  already  observed,  the  wavering  of  the  agricultural  body  has 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  75 

constituted  tlie  strengtli  of  the  one  party  and  tlie  weakness  of  the 
other.  The  great  object  of  both,  therefore,  has  been  to  secure  the 
iarmers;  and  in  this  object  the  protective  party  have  heretofore 
generally  succeeded.  Their  identity  of  interest  with  the  cotton- 
planters  was  obvious,  but  the  promises  of  the  manufacturers  were 
enticing  and  specious. 

In  acting  on  the  agricultural  body,  the  manufacturers  have  ap- 
pealed to  their  interest  and  their  nationality.  What  the  farmer 
wanted  was  a  market  for  his  produce — the  manufacturer  promised 
to  provide  him  with  one.  He  was  reminded  that  New  England, 
which  was  the  seat  of  domestic  manufactures,  was,  so  far  as  re- 
garded the  chief  articles  of  food,  a  non-producing  country.  If  he 
objected  that  his  market  there  was  limited,  it  was  replied,  that  the 
industry  which  gave  rise  to  it  was  as  yet  in  its  infancy;  that,  judg- 
ing from  its  past  progress,  it  would  soon  be  able  to  meet  all  his 
wants ;  and  that  it  would  be  steady  in  its  requirements,  and  pro- 
gressive in  their  increase,  instead  of  being  characterized  by  the  con- 
stant fluctuations  of  a  foreign  demand,  to  which  the  free-traders 
taught  him  chiefly  to  look.  There  was  something  plausible  in  all 
this,  and  the  agricultural  mind,  never  very  bright,  was  for  a  time 
carried  away  by  it.  A  home-market,  at  one's  own  door,  and  steady 
and  constant  in  its  demands,  seemed  preferable  to  depending  upon 
the  wants  of  foreigners,  whilst  it  appealed  to  a  feeling  of  which 
the  manufacturers  were  too  adroit  not  to  avail  theni(?elves. 

It  was  upon  this  feeling  that  was  based  the  celebrated  "  Ameri- 
can System,"  of  which  Mr.  Clay,  if  not  the  author,  was  the  most 
eloquent  champion.  Independence  in  every  thing  of  the  foreigner, 
was  its  motto;  and  prohibition,  where  practicable,  its  policy.  The 
national  vanity  was  appealed  to,  to  constitute  the  Republic  a  world 
within  itself.  Having  the  means  of  independence  within  their 
grasp,  why  not  have  the  patriotism  to  use  them?  Their  capabili- 
ties were  glowingly  contrasted  with  their  present  condition.  Why 
should  they  not  clothe  as  well  as  feed  themselves,  when  they  had 
both  equally  in  their  power?  It  was  represented  as  degrading  to 
a  great  people  to  be  unnecessarily  beholden  to  another  people  for 
any  thing.  The  mutuality  of  dependence  was  kept  out  of  sight,  as 
was  the  virtual  independence  to  which  such  mutuality  of  depen- 
dence gave  rise.  It  was  no  balm  to  the  wounded  feehngs  of  the 
patriots,  that,  if  England  clothed  America,  America  might  feed 
England.  Absolute  independence  was  their  aim,  at  whatever  cost 
it  might  be  purchased;  indeed.  Nature  herself  had  decided  the  ques- 
tion for  them.  They  had  the  raw  material  in  abundance;  and,  as 
they  were  not  deficient  in  skill  and  industry,  why  should  they  send 
it  abroad  to  be  spun?  The  raw  cotton  was  at  their  doors,  inviting 
them,  as  it  were,  to  convert  it  at  home  into  the  woven  fabric.  By 
so  doing  they  would  greatly  enhance  the  accumulations  of  domestic 


76  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

wealth,  whilst  they  woiikl  he,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  a  self- 
subsisting  people.  The  influence  which  this  wouhl  confer  upon 
them  in  time  of  peace,  and  the  power  wliich  it  would  give  tliem  in 
time  of  war,  were  dwelt  upon  with  befitting  emphasis.  All  this, 
it  was  true,  implied  a  preliminary  struggle,  but  the  probation  would 
be  short — the  result  glorious. 

Nor  was  it  on  the  farmers  only  that  this  patriotic  policy  was 
pressed.  AVliat  would  the  cotton-growers  lose  by  it  ?  The  pro- 
tectionists only  meant  to  transfer  their  market,  having  no  intention 
to  deprive  them  of  it.  Let  them  only  encourage  New  England 
industry,  and  it  would  soon  absorb  all  their  produce.  Not  that  it 
was  supposed  that  the  planters  themselves  were  likely  to  be  deluded 
by  this  shallow  argument ;  its  design  being  to  follow  up  the  impres- 
sion made  upon  the  agricultural  body  by  the  appeal  to  their  own 
interests,  by  pretending  that  those  of  no  section  of  the  community 
.would  be  injured  by  the  policy  proposed.  This  placed  the  planters 
in  a  position  doubly  invidious.  Even  assuming  that  their  interests 
would  be  compromised,  they  were  opposing  those  interests  to  the 
general  welfare  and  obvious  policy  of  the  state ;  conduct  which  be- 
came much  more  odious  when  it  was  taken  for  granted  that  they 
would  ultimately  share  with  others  in  all  the  protifs  of  protection. 
But  the  planters  were  not  to  be  hood-winked.  England  was  the 
great  market  for  their  staple  produce,  and  they  were  not  to  be  driven 
from  it  by  any  promises  of  what  the  northern  capitalists  would 
yet  do  for  them  at  home.  Every  effort  was  used  by  the  latter  to 
show  that  these  promises  were  not  groundless.  The  consumption 
of  raw  cotton  in  England  was  compared  to  that  in  New  England, 
to  show  how  much  more  rapid  was  the  enlargement  of  the  latter 
than  that  of  the  former  market.  A  certain  period  was  taken  from 
which  to  date  the  comparison,  such  as  the  year  1816,  when  the 
home  consumption  was  about  11,000,000  lbs.,  while  that  of  England 
was  about  80,000,000  lbs.  A  later  period  was  then  taken,  com- 
prising a  few  years,  when  it  was  shown  that  New  England  had 
quadrupled  her  consumption,  whilst  Old  England  had  scarcely 
doubled  hers — as  if  doubhng  a  consumption  of  eighty  millions  was 
not  a  much  greater  feat  than  quadrupling  a  consumption  of  eleven 
millions.  Proceeding  Avith  the  comparison,  they  at  length  reached 
the  year  1845,  when  the  home  consumption  amounted  to  upwards  of 
170',000,000  lbs.  that  of  England  upwards  of  600,000,000  lbs.;  in 
other  words,  the  one  had  increased  sixteen-fold,  whilst  the  other 
had  not  increased  eight-fold.  But  so  far  as  the  practical  question 
before  the  planter  was  concerned,  the  English  market  was  still  the 
great  field  for  iiim,  which  had  multiplied  its  demand  in  thirty  years 
by  eight  times  eighty  millions,  whilst  the  home-market  had  in- 
creased its  demand  by  only  sixteen  times  eleven  millions.  The 
one  had  increased  its  consumption  by  upwards  of  150  millions  of 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  77 

pounds,  whilst  tlie  other  had  increased  its  demand  hy  upwards  of 
500  millions.  Which  then,  as  to  practical  result,  had  conferred 
the  greatest  benefit  on  the  cotton-growing  mterest?  The  planters 
well  knew  which,  and  stuck  fast  to  their  creed.  So  far  as  they 
were  concerned,  the  comparison  was  as  fallacious  as  it  would  be 
to  say  that  a  child  of  three  years  of  age  had  gained  upon  a  man  of 
twenty-one,  because  at  the  end  of  six  years  it  had  trebled  its  age, 
whereas  he  had  added  little  more  than  a  third  to  his.  Takino- 
small  bases  and  large  bases  to  calculate  upon,  the  multiples  may  be 
very  much  in  favour  of  the  small,  without  affecting,  in  the  least  degree, 
the  practical  question  at  issue.  That  question  is, — Has  the  Eng- 
lish market,  starting  from  1816,  kept  its  ground  as  compared  to  the 
American?  Not  only  has  it  done  this,  but  it  has  infinitely  gained 
on  its  competitor.  In  18 IG  it  was  in  advance  of  the  home-market 
in  its  consumption  of  raw  cotton  by  only  69,000,000  of  pounds;  in 
1845  it  was  in  advance  by  430,000,000.  It  matters  little,  then,  to  the 
planter,  by  what  multiple  either  England  or  America  had  in  the  mean 
lime  increased  its  consumption,  for  England  has  not  only  kept  the 
vantage-ground  on  which  she  started,  but  greatly  improved  it. 

The  "American  System"  owed  its  temporary  success  more  to  a 
national  weakness  than   to  the   soundness  of  its  policy.     A  man 
might  as  reasonably  strive  to  be  independent  of  his  shoemaker,  as 
one  nation  endeavour  to   be  independent   of  another,  when  their 
wants  and  aptitudes  adapt  them  for  mutual  interchange.     Yet  such 
is  the  system,  which  has  made  reputation  for  politicians,  and  for- 
tunes for  capitalists.     Its  advocacy  is  one  of  the  distinguishing  fea- 
tures of  the  Whig  party:  its  principal  champions  being  Mr.  Clay, 
Mr.  Webster,  and  Mr.  Abbot  Lawrence,  himself  a  wealthy  manu- 
facturer.    Mr.  Webster's  connexion  with  the  question  is  not  the 
most  creditable  passage  in  his  political  life,  which  he  commenced 
by  being  an  ardent  free-trader. 

It  is  now  time  to  direct  attention  to  the  ground  occupied  by  tlie 
free-traders.  They  take  their  stand  upon  the  intrinsic  merits  of  the 
question,  and  upon  the  federal  constitution.  They  advise  the  farm- 
ers to  look  abroad  for  markets  for  their  produce.  The  home-mar- 
ket is  theirs  already,  and  must  remain  theirs;  whereas  it  is  only 
by  a  concession  of  equivalents  that  they  can  secure  the  custom  of 
the  foreigner.  Besides,  the  home  market  can  never  expand  in 
proportion  to  their  wants,  the  consequences  of  being  confmed  to 
M'hich  would  be  accumulated  products  and  low  prices.  Yet  it  is 
for  this  that  they  are  called  upon  to  foster  domestic  fabrics,  of  an 
inferior  description,  at  high  prices.  English  goods  of  fine  texture 
may  be  had  for  a  little  wheat,  but  they  must  not  take  them,  because 
they  are  English;  American  goods  of  a  coarse  texture  will  cost 
more  wheat,  but  then  they  should  be  taken  because  they  are  Ameri- 
can.    Is  this  the  principle  on  which,  as  a  people,  they  should  act? 

7* 


78  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

It  is  certainly  not  that  on  which  individuals  wish  to  act.  Their 
true  policy  is  to  buy,  not  only  where  they  can  get  the  best  article, 
but  where  what  they  have  to  give  in  exchange  will  go  the  longest 
way.  In  this  policy  the  whole  body  of  consumers,  it  is  contended, 
have  an  interest;  inasmuch  as  the  farmer  can  virtually  manufacture, 
by  means  of  his  plough,  better  and  more  cheaply  than  can  the 
manufacturer  with  his  loom.  A  free  exchange,  with  England  and 
other  countries,  of  agricultural  products  for  manufactured  articles, 
would  virtually  transter  the  seat  of  manufactures  to  the  valley  of 
the  Mississippi.  In  every  point  of  view  the  interest  of  the  farmer 
is  identified  with  free  trade ;  through  its  means  alone  can  he  dispose 
of  his  surplus  produce,  and  fill  the  country  with  iabrics — foreign, 
it  is  true,  but  excellent  and  cheap.  And  as  to  the  planters  them- 
selves,the  home-market,  which  is  secure  to  them,  consumes  but  a 
fraction  of  their  yearly  produce.  Whilst  any  three  of  the  grain- 
growing  States  can  of  themselves  supply  the  home-market  with 
provisions,  the  State  of  Mississippi  alone  can  supply  it  with  cotton. 
What  then  is  to  become  of  the  Carolinas,  of  Georgia,  of  Alabama, 
and  Louisiana,  if  the  markets  of  Europe  are  to  be  rendered  inac- 
cessible to  them?  So  far  from  its  being  their  object  to  cripple  the 
manufacturers  of  England,  their  policy  is  to  stimulate  them.  The 
object  of  the  New  England  capitalist  is  twofold — to  escape  foreign 
competition,  and  to  glut  the  liome-market  with  the  raw  material,  for 
the  purpose  of  enabling  him  to  manufacture  all  the  more  cheaply, 
and  sell  all  the  more  dearly.  And  what  is  the  efiect  of  all  this? 
Simply,  that  twenty  millions  of  people  are  mulcted  enormously  to 
the  benefit  of  a  few  thousand  capitalists.  The  revenue  received 
from  imports  in  1845  exceeded  twenty-seven  millions  of  dollars; 
but  it  would  be  erroneous  to  suppose  that  this  was  the  sum-total  of 
the  tax  paid  for  the  benefit  of  the  protected  classes.  The  virtual 
operation  of  the  then  existing  tarilf  was,  by  the  enhanced  value 
which  it  gave  to  domestic  fabrics,  to  burden  the  people  with  an  ad- 
ditional tax  to  double  that  amount  for  the  benefit  of  the  manufac- 
turers. For  every  dollar,  then,  which  that  tariff  put  into  the  federal 
treasury,  it  put  two  into  the  pockets  of  the  capitalists. 

The  constitutional  ground  taken  by  the  free-traders  is — that  a  tarifl' 
bill  is  simply  a  revenue  bill.  Being  tlms  purely  a  bill  for  raising 
revenue,  it  should  propose  no  other  object  beyond  tliis,  its  consti- 
tutional intendment.  Tiie  moment  that  it  is  framed  for  the  purpose 
of  embracing  the  profits  of  capital,  it  becomes  a  bill  for  something 
else  than  raisinof  revenue,  and  that  somethino:  else  is  not  included 
amongst  the  specified  and  enumerated  powers  of  Congress.  An 
unnecessary  high  tariff  is  not  only  a  means  of  raising  revenue,  but 
it  is  also  in  effect  an  enactment  that  capital,  invested  in  particular 
channels,  shall  divide  larger  per-centages  than  that  invested  in  other 
pursuits.  The  unconstitutionality  of  this  is  as  obvious  as  are  its 
injustice  and  inequality. 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  79 

Such  are  llic  grounds  taken  by  the  free-traders  on  this  great  and 
eno-rossmg  subject,  and  s-uch  is  the  language  which  they  hold  to  the 
farmers,  whose  support  they  are  desirous  of  securing.  It  is  to  the 
ranks  of  the  democrats  as  a  party,  that  the  advocacy  of  these  doc- 
trines is  confined;  the  free-trade  chiefs  being  Mr.  Calhoun  and  Mr. 
M'Duffie  in  the  Senate,  and  Mr.  Mackay  in  the  house  of  Repre- 
sentatives. 

Any  thing  like  a  detailed  account  of  the  protracted  contest  which 
has  been  waged  by  the  parties,  thus  marshalled  against  each  other, 
would  be  here  manifestly  out  of  place.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  the 
commercial  legislation  of  the  Union  has  been  frequently  modiiied 
by  their  diflerences.  The  high  protective  tariff  of  1828  seemed  to 
bring  matters  to  a  crisis,  resulting  in  that  memorable  struggle  which 
threatened  to  dissever  the  Union,  and  which  was  only  terminated 
by  the  compromise  bill  of  1832.  This  bill  lasted  till  1842,  when 
a  new  tariff  act  was  passed,  more  stringent  than  its  predecessor  in 
its  enactments,  during  the  AVhig  episode,  which  was  marked  by  the 
accidental  presidency  of  Mr.  Tyler.  During  the  interval  which 
succeeded  between  that  and  the  passing  of  the  tariff-bill  of  1846, 
free-trade  principles  made  great  progress  throughout  the  valley  of 
the  Mississippi.  The  farmers  began  to  suspect  that  they  had  been 
hoodwinked  by  their  New  England  allies;  and  the  planters  immedi- 
ately profited  by  their  suspicions.  The  result  was  a  manifest  change 
in  the  national  sentiment,  previously  to  the  presidential  nominations 
in  1844.  A  low  tariff  for  revenue  purposes  alone  was,  for  the  first 
time,  made  one  of  the  leading  principles  of  the  whole  democratic 
party.  The  points  which  they  assumed  were  these;  that  no  more 
money  should  be  levied  on  imports  than  was  necessary  for  the 
purposes  of  the  government;  that  the  maximum  rate  of  duty  upon 
any  and  every  article  should  be  the  minimum  duty  compatible  with 
the  largest  amount  of  revenue ;  that  the  maximum  duty,  thus  defined, 
should  be  imposed  upon  luxuries;  and  tiiat  all  arbitrary  minimums 
and  all  specific  duties  should  be  abolished,  and  ad  valorem  duties 
substituted  in  their  stead.  Such  were  the  commercial  principles 
w^hich  figured  amongst  the  more  prominent  objects  of  democratic 
policy  in  1844,  and  to  carry  out  which,  amongst  other  things,  Mr. 
Polk's  government  was  installed  into  office  in  1845.  The  result 
was  the  tariff-bill  of  1818,  which  established,  for  the  first  time,  the 
financial  policy  of  the  Union  upon  a  purely  revenue  basis. 

To  the  general  reader,  much  of  the  foregoing  may  be  very  unin- 
teresting. It  will  not  seem  misplaced,  however,  to  such  as  desire 
to  understand  the  commercial  question  as  it  exhibits  itself  in  the 
United  States.  It  is  a  question  in  which  we,  on  this  side  of  the 
Atlantic,  have  a  deep  interest.  Nor  is  the  struggle  between  parties 
yet  over.  The  Union  will  yet  ring  with  their  strife;  audit  will  not  be 
iminteresting  to  the  Englishman  to  be  acquainted,  when  their  future 


80  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

contests  arise,  with  the  parties  in  the  iield,  tlie  views  wliich  tliey 
entertain,  and  the  interests  wliich  they  liave  to  subserve. 

It  cannot  here  fail  to  be  remarked  that,  although  tlie  point  at  issue 
is  the  same  as  in  this  country,  the  parties  in  the  two  countries  re- 
spectively are  marshalled  on  very  different  sides.  Here,  the  strug- 
gle of  capital  has  been  for  freedom  of  trade;  there,  it  has  been  for 
protection:  here,  the  landed  interest  has  contended  for  restriction; 
there,  one  section  of  it  has  ever  fought  for  relaxation;  and  now  all 
sections  combined  seem  to  struggle  for  the  same  end.  In  the  New 
as  in  the  Old  World,  the  battle  has  been  between  the  landlords  and 
the  cotton-lords,  but  they  have  changed  colours  in  the  fight.  In 
both,  protection  is  for  the  time  prostrate;  the  cotton-lords  having 
achieved  in  one  country  the  triumph  which  has  fallen  to  the  landlords 
in  the  other. 

In  the  sketch  here  given,  I  have  confined  myself  strictly  to  the 
main  features  of  the  question — taking  no  notice  of  those  minor  in- 
terests which  play  their  own  parts  in  the  contest,  but  subsidiary  to 
the   evolutions  of  the  greater  interests  alluded  to. 

In  a  country  in  which  the  revolutions  of  party  are  so  frequent 
and  sudden  as'in  the  United  States,  it  is  not  easy,  from  the  past  or 
present,  to  predicate  any  thing  w^ith  certainty  of  the  future.  But  the 
signs  of  the  times  by  no  means  favour  the  belief  that  the  commercial 
question  in  America  has  yet  attained  its  final  adjustment.  It  is  not 
likely  that  any  very  permanent  deviation  will  again  take  place  from 
the  policy  which  triumphed  in  1846;.  but  there  is  some  reason  to 
fear  that  the  commercial  policy  of  the  Union  will  occasionally  be 
disturbed  by  being  still  made  to  oscillate,  more  or  less,  between  the 
views  of  the  protectionists  and  free-traders.  The  former  are  disap- 
pointed, but  not  discouraged  by  their  late  defeat;  and  their  strength 
and  influence  are  yet  such  as  to  require  constant  vigilance  on  the 
part  of  the  friends  of  free-trade.  The  late  elections  have  given  to 
the  Whig  party  a  small  majority  in  the  Lower  House;  but  so  long 
as  the  Senate  and  the  executive  Government  remain  in  the  hands 
of  the  Democrats,  no  great  alteration  of  the  existing  tariff  need  be 
apprehended.  But  who  can  tell  how  long  this  will  continue  so,  or 
how  the  whirlwind  of  the  next  presidential  election  may  affect  the 
question?  There  would  be  more  hope  of  the  permanency  of  the 
settlement  of  18  46,  if  some  time  were  given  it  to  show  the  advan- 
tages of  its  working.  But  the  next  election  is  already  impending, 
and  the  protectionists  are  busily  at  work,  particularly  with  Pennsyl- 
vania, whose  weight  in  the  federal  legislature  is  great,  and  which 
was  the  greatest  sufferer  by  the  late  change  in  the  tariff.  Should 
she  secede  from  the  democratic  party  and  go  over  to  the  Whigs, 
which  there  is  every  reason  to  believe  she  will  do,  her  defection, 
togetlier  with  General  Taylor's  personal  popularity,  will  be  almost 
sure  to  turn  the  scale  at  the  coming  presidential  contest  in  favour 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  81 

of  the  Whigs.  But  even  tlien,  to  aflfect  tlie  tariff,  tliey  must  not 
only  have  the  President,  but  both  houses  of  Cong-ress  in  their  hands. 
They  will  have  the  Lower  House,  but  it  is  extremely  doubtful  if 
they  can  carry  the  Senate.  If  not,  the  tariff  is  safe,  for  a  few  years 
more  at  least:  and  every  year's  grace  which  it  receives,  will  increase 
the  chances  of  its  permanency ;  for  when  the  West  is  once  thoroughly 
alive  to  its  advantages,  so  far  as  it  is  concerned,  both  Whigs  and 
Democrats  from  that  quarter,  however  they  may  differ  on  questions 
purely  political,  will  be  at  one  upon  the  commercial  question.* 

But  a  question  here  arises,  perhaps  more  interesting  still,  which, 
without  immediate  regard  to  tariffs,  concerns  the  commercial  des- 
tinies of  the  Transatlantic  Republic.  This  is  a  matter,  in  contem- 
plating which,  speculation  finds  itself  utterly  at  fault.  Taking  the 
realization ^o("  the  past  for  our  guide,  the  probabilities  of  the  future 
seemed  to  transcend  the  line  of  credibility.  The  Americans  have  it 
in  their  power  to  become  all  they  dream  of, — a  self-subsisting,  in- 
dependent people,  feeding  and  clothing  themselves,  and  able  to  feed 
and  clothe  the  world  besides.  To  this,  things  ultimately,  if  left  to 
take  their  course,  will  of  themselves  tend.  But  would  it  be  worth 
the  necessary  cost  to  attempt  to  precipitate  events  ?  The  United 
States  are  greater  in  their  prospects  than  in  all  they  have  yet 
achieved.     What  is  there  to  prevent  them  doing  all  that  we  have 

*  Since  the  above  was  written,  the  Presidential  election  for  1843  has  tran- 
spired. Partly  by  the  anticipated  defection  of  Pennsylvania  from  the  demo- 
crats, and  the  divisions  existing  in  New  York,  and  partly  by  the  enthusiasm 
in  his  favour,  occasioned  by  his  successes  in  ^Mexico,  General  Taylor  has 
triumphed  over  his  fidgety  and  irascible  competitor.  This  is  an  event  over 
which,  in  the  present  state  of  the  political  affairs  of  the  world,  the  friends  of 
peace  must  everywhere  rejoice.  But  it  is  the  high-tariff  party  that  has  suc- 
ceeded; and  they  have  now  the  Executive  Government  and  the  House  of  Re- 
presentatives in  their  hands.  The  Senate,  however,  is  still  democratic,  by  a 
considerable  majority, — a  circumstance  which  ensures,  for  a  year  or  two  at 
least,  the  Bill  of  1846.  But  it  is  by  no  means  certain,  considering  the  favour- 
able experience  that  the  Union  has  so  far  had  of  its  working,  that  the  victorious 
AVhigs  would  have  felt  themselves  authorized  to  meddle  with  it,  at  least  to 
any  serious  extent,  even  had  the  Legislature  been  completely  at  their  com- 
mand. But,  waiving  all  speculations  as  to  what  they  would  have  done  under 
such  circumstances,  it  is  sufficient,  for  the  present,  to  know  that  the  Senate 
remains  Democratic.  A  few  years  more,  if  it  remains  undisturbed,  may  give 
the  tariff  such  a  hold,  that  the  policy  which  it  symbolizes  will  become  im- 
pregnable, no  matter  what  may  be  the  condition  of  parties.  Pennsylvania, 
some  of  whose  interests  have  suffered  most  severely  by  the  change,  has  not 
shown  herself  to  be  implacable,  after  all.  She  has  gone  for  the  Whigs,  but 
by  so  trifling  a  majority,  that  there  is  reason  to  hope  for  her  return,  very 
soon,  to  the  Democratic  ranks.  In  truth,  the  people  of  Pennsylvania  are  be- 
coming fully  alive  to  the  fact  that  they  are  interested  in  a  low  tariff  whilst 
it  is  only  the  iron  and  the  coalmasters  who  are  interested  in  a  hijih  one.  If 
Pennsylvania  finally  throws  herself  into  the  free-trade  scale,  which  she  is 
likely  to  do,  although  for  some  time  they  may  rejoice  over  temporary  and 
partial  successes,  the  game  of  the  protectionists  is  virtually  lost. 


82  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

done?     Have  lliey  not  ingenuity  equal  to  our  own?     Have  they 
not  industry  and  enterprise  to   a  degree  wliicli  does  credit  to  their 
origin  ?     And  if  they  want  capital,  are  they  not  daily  accumulating 
it?     Nay,  more,  what  is  to  prevent  them  doing  more  than  we  have 
done?     Great  as  arc  our  resources,  they  are   trifling  as  compared 
to  the  undeveloped  wealth  of  the  North  American  continent.     What 
we  have  done  with  capital,  industry,  and  skill,  they  can  achieve, 
and  much  more ;  for  to  these  they  add  the  raw  material,  for  which 
our  manufacturing  interests  are  so  largely  dependent  upon  them. 
And  in  view  of  the  rivalry  at  present  existing,  this  is  a  dependence 
which  cannot  be  contemplated  with  indiff'erence.     As  regards  the 
supply  of  cotton,  we  are  as  much  at  the  mercy  of  America  as  if  we 
were  starving,  and  to  her  alone  we  looked  for  food.     She  need  not 
withhold  her  wheat:  America  could  starve  us  by  withholding  her 
cotton.     True,  it  is  as  much  her  interest  as  ours  to  act  'differendy  ; 
and  so  long  as  it  continues  so,  no  difiiculty  will  be  experienced. 
But  a  combination  of  circumstances    may  be  supposed,  in  which 
America,  at  little  cost  to  herself,  might  strike  us  an  irrecoverable 
blow:  a  crisis  might  arise,  when,  by  momentarily  crippling  our  in- 
dustry, she  might  push  in  and  deprive  us  of  the  market^  of  the  world. 
And  who,  should  the  opportunity  arise,  Avill  guaranty  her  forbear- 
ance?    Fill  England  with  provisions — let  her  harbours  be  choked 
and  her  granaries  bursting  with  their  stores — what  a  spectacle  would 
she  present  on  a  stoppage  of  one  year's  supply  of  cotton  !     It  would 
do  more  to  prostrate  her  in  the  dust,  than  all  the  armaments  which 
America  and  Europe  combined  could  hurl  against  her.     What  a  tre- 
mendous power  is  this  in  the  hands  of  a  rival !     The  day  may  come, 
even  should  inclination  be  dead,  when  self-interest  may  drive  her 
to  the  policy  of  shutting  up  our  English  factories,  and  crushing  our 
English  trade.     She  has,  as  it  were,  at  her  command,  the  great 
dam,  from  which  all  our  motive  power  is  derived,  and  has  only  to 
close  the  sluices,  when  she  wishes  our  machinery  to  stop.     It  is  the 
consciousness  of  this  absolute  dependence  that  induces  many  to 
look  anxiously  elsewhere  for  the  supply  of  that,  for  which  we  are 
now  wholly  beholden  to  a  rival.     The  cultivation  of  cotton  in  India 
is  no  chimera;  the  time  may  come  when  we  may  find  it  our  safety. 
Whatever  may  be  our  experiences,  or  the  conduct  of  America 
in  this  respect,  it  is  yet  destined  to  rear  up  a  fabric  of  commercial 
greatness,  such  as  the  world  has  hitherto  been  a  stranger  to.     On 
such  a  theme  it  would  be    idle    to  speculate  minutely  ;    but  this 
much  at  least  may  be  safely  predicated  of  a  people  with  ingenuity 
equal  to,  and  with  resources  ten  times  as  great  as  ours,  and  with  an 
enterprise  which  drives  them   with  ardour  into  every  cliannel  of 
trade,  from  ransacking  the  South  Sea   for   whales,  to   trafficking 
round  the  world  with  ice. 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  83 


CHAPTER  VI. 

FROM    NEW    YORK    TO    PHILADELPHIA. 

Cross  the  Hudson. — Scramble  for  Seats. — State  of  the  Rail. — Device  for 
obviating  a  Difficulty. — Aspect  of  the  Country. — Triumph  over  Impedi- 
ments.— A  sudden  Halt. — An  awkward  Plight. — An  uncomfortable  Night. 
A  dreary  Morning. — Escape  from  a  novel  Confinement. — Arrival  on  the 
Delaware. — The  Ferry-boat. — Arrival  at  Philadelphia. 

My  destination,  on  leaving  New  York,  was  Philadelphia,  about 
ninety  miles  distant  from   the   former  city.     The  journey  may  be 
said  to  be  performed  by  railway,  although  it  commences  with  one 
steam  ferry  and   ends   with  another.     We   were   conveyed  across 
the  Hudson,  in  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  to  Jersey  City,  already 
noticed  as  forming  a  feature  in  the  panoramic  view  of  New  York; 
on  arriving  at  which  the  passengers  jumped  in  crowds  upon  the 
floating  slip  where  we  landed,  and  fled  with  a  precipitation,  which 
might  have  led  one  to  suppose  that  each  and  every  of  them  had 
been  pursued  by  a  sheriif's  officer,  or  as  if  they  had  been  layino* 
wagers  with  each  other  on  the  way  across.     I  was  still  wondering 
at  the  cause  of  this  spontaneous  exhibition  of  agility,  when  it  oc- 
curred to  me  that  I  might  as  well  do  as  the  rest  did,  in  case  there 
might  be  some  danger  which  they  were  escaping.     I  according-ly 
took  to  my  heels — I  did  not  know  why — and  followed  the  breath- 
less and  panting  crowd  into  a  large  unfinished-looking  brick  build- 
ing, which,  on  entering,  I  found  to  be  the  railway  station.     Once 
within  the  station,  the  hurry-scurry,  if  possible,  increased:   men 
jostling  each  other,  and  rushing  in  at  every  available  aperture  into 
the  cars,  like  so  many  maniacs — conduct  which  all  the  more  sur- 
prised me,  as  it  was  still  a  quarter  of  an  hour  to  the  time  of  starting. 
Inside  the  cars,  again,  the  scuffle  was  such,  that  I  began  to  think 
the  presence  of  the  New  Jersey  police  would  be  very  opportune. 
I  kept  aloof  until  1  found,  from  the  quiet  which  succeeded,  that  the 
riot  had,  by  some   means  or  other,  been  quelled,  and  it  was   only 
on  venturing  inside  one  of  the  cars  that  I  discovered  the  cause   of 
the  tumult.     It  appears  that  in  winter  there  is  a  choice  of  seats,  the 
preferable  ones  being  such  as  are  not  too  near,  or  too  far  from,  the 
stove.     The  race  then  was  for  these  seats;  and,  as  I  entered,  those 
who  occupied  them  regarded  me  with  an  expression,  in  whicli  it 
was  very  easy  to  read — "Didn't  you  w^ish  you  might  get  it?"     I 
consoled  myself,  however,  for  any  loss  that  I  might  have  sustained, 
by  the  reflection  that  I  should  be  as  wise  as  the  rest  of  them,  the 
next  time. 


84  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

The  railway  connecting-  the  two  capitals,  lies  entirely  within  the 
State  of  New  Jersey,  which  is  flanked  on  either  side  by  the  Hud- 
son and  the  Delaware.  For  the  right-of-way  across  the  intervening 
State,  the  company,  whicli  is  principally  composed  of  New  York- 
ers and  Philadelphians,  has  to  pay  into  the  State  treasury  one 
dollar  per  head  on  the  passengers  conveyed  by  it— an  arrangement 
which  goes  fiir  to  lighten  tlie  burdens  of  taxation  in  New  Jersey. 
There  is  another,  but  less  direct  route,  through  the  same  state,  con- 
necting Philadelphia  by  railway,  with  Amboy  on  Raritan  Bay,  from 
wliich  the  rest  of  the  way  is  performed  by  steamboat  to  New  York, 
a  very  pleasant  sail  in  the  summer  time,  when  one  can  enjoy  the 
picturesque  beauties  of  Staten  Island  Sound. 

On  the  previous  night  there  had  been  a  severe  storm,  accompanied 
by  a  heavy  fiill  of  snovv^.  The  succeeding  day  had  been  bright, 
but  the  wind  blew  strongly  from  the  west,  carrying  the  snow  in 
blinding  whirlwinds  on  its  wings.  Towards  the  afternoon  it  had 
considerably  abated,  and  there  was  every  probability  of  our  being 
able  to  proceed.  As  the  line  was  buried  in  snow,  three  powerful 
engines  were  attached  to  the  train.  The  first  of  these  was  preceded 
by  an  enormous  snow  plougli,  an  indispensable  feature  in  the 
winter  appanages  of  an  American  railway.  It  was  so  contrived 
as,  when  impelled  by  the  engine,  to  clear  the  line  of  snow  to  within 
a  few  inches  of  the  rail,  strong  brooms  attached  to  the  frame  of  tlie 
engine  immediately  in  front  of  the  wheels  completing  the  work,  by 
brushing  the  rail  bare  and  clean.  We  started  at  a  slow  and  cau- 
tious pace,  as  befitted  a  train  having  no  visible  line  to  follow.  For 
the  first  few  miles  we  encountered  no  difficulty,  the  snow  having 
lain  lightly  as  it  fell.  We  soon  quickened  our  pace,  therefore, 
when  the  sturdy  plough  did  its  work  nobly.  It  first  bored  into  the 
snow,  seeking  for  the  buried  line,  like  a  ferret  burrowing  for  a 
rabbit,  and  then  tore  up  the  white  covering  which  concealed  it, 
throwing  it  in  fragments  on  either  side,  sometimes  for  a  distance  of 
twenty  yards ;  and  every  now  and  then,  when  it  encountered  a 
shglit  drift,  sending  it  in  a  shower  over  the  whole  train,  as  a  stout 
ship  treats  the  billow  that  would  use  her  roughly. 

Shortly  after  leaving  Jersey  city,  we  passed  an  extensive  cutting 
through  the  golid  rock;  a  work  in  every  way  more  formidable  than 
the  celebrated  cutting  on  the  Birmingham  line.  From  this  we 
emerged  upon  a  vast  flat  sedgy  country,  as  level  as  a  bowling  green, 
covered  with  reeds  in  some  places,  and  in  others  with  long  rank 
grass,  both  of  which,  the  latter  in  brown  tufts,  peered  here  and  there 
through  the  snow.  The  wiiole  of  this  level  tract  is  one  vast  basin 
surrounded  by  uplands,  and  bears  every  indication  of  having  been 
the  bed  of  some  shallow  lake,  wliich,  by  degrees,  drained  itself  off 
into  the  Hudson.  It  was  whilst  crossing  it,  tliat  the  eflect  of  the 
snow-plough  was  most  perceptible   and  curious.     In   front  of  us 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  85 

nothing  was  to  be  seen  but  one  widely  extended  monotonous  sheet 
of  snow,  whilst  behind,  as  if  summoned  up  by  magic,  lay  the  de- 
nuded rails  as  clean  as  if  nothing  had  ever  enveloped  them.  It 
almost  seemed  as  if  we  were  flying  over  the  country  and  laying 
down  the  line  as  we  went  along. 

During  the  spring  months  a  great  proportion  of  this  tract  is  in  a 
state  of  prolonged  inundation ;  and  during  the  heats  of  summer,  the 
still  brimful  streams,  which  intersect  it,  seem  as  if  in  want  of  a 
compass  that  they  may  know  which  way  to  run. 

On  quitting  this  dreary  level,  the  country  becomes  more  inte- 
resting, its  surface  being  broken  into  gentle  undulations,  between 
which  nestle  warm  and  fertile  valleys.  All  around  then  wore  the 
cheerless  look  of  winter,  but  a  prettier  piece  of  country  can  scarcely 
be  imagined  than  this  in  the  months  of  July  and  August,  when  the 
orchards  are  gleaming  with  their  golden  crop,  and  the  breath  of 
summer  rustles  merrily  through  fields  of  waving  Indian  corn. 

Our  first  stoppage  was  at  Newark,  the  most  considerable  town 
in  New  Jersey,  but  not  its  capital. 

"  This  is  tlie  great  champagne  manufactory  of  America,"  said  a 
New  Yorker,  sitting  by  me. 

"  Champagne  manufactory  ?"  I  repeated,  not  exactly  compre- 
hending him. 

"The  best  cider  in  the  country  is  made  here,"  he  added;  "and 
by  far  the  greater  portion  of  the  best  champagne,  which  we  import, 
comes  from  Newark." 

I  frequendy  afterwards  tasted  this  beverage  in  its  real,  and  I  have 
no  doubt,  in  its  assumed  character,  and  found  it  excellent  as  a  sum- 
mer drink.  Many  is  the  American  connoisseur  of  champagne,  who 
has  his  taste  cultivated  on  Newark  cider. 

Between  this  and  the  town  of  New  Brunswick,  nothing  particu- 
larly occurred,  with  the  exception  that  the  difficulties,  which  the  snow 
interposed  to  our  progress,  increased  as  we  proceeded.  It  no  longer 
lay  softly  on  the  ground,  but  was  drifted  in  wreaths  across  the  line. 
The  imperviousness  which  it  assumes  in  this  state  is  almost  incredi- 
ble, being  packed  together  by  the  wind,  until  it  becomes  nearly  as 
hard  as  a  board.  Through  some  of  these  wreaths  we  made  our  way 
with  difficulty,  at  one  plunge,  the  whole  train  sustaining  a  shock  in 
the  operation,  like  that  given  to  a  ship  struck  by  a  heavy  sea.  Others 
were  more  formidable,  and  were  not  thus  to  be  dealt  with,  bringing 
us  to  a  sudden  stop  in  our  career,  when  the  train  would  back,  rush 
at  them  again  like  a  huge  battering  ram,  back  again,  if  necessary, 
and  repeat  the  dose,  until,  by  successive  effiarts,  the  obstacle  was 
overcome.  When  more  than  usual  force  was  required,  in  tender 
mercy  to  the  passengers,  who  were  sometimes  thrown  "all  of  a 
heap"  by  these  operations  into  the  fore-part  of  their  respective  car- 
VOL.  I.—  8 


86  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

riao-es,  the  train  would  be  detached,  and  the  locomotives  set  at  it 
themselves,  taking  a  good  race,  so  as  to  strike  with  the  more  effect. 
It  was  amusing  to  watch  this  rough  and  novel  species  of  tournament, 
the  sturdy  engines  sometimes  nearly  breaking  a  lance  with  the 
enemy,  and  at  others,  disappearing  for  a  moment,  amid  a  cloud  of 
snowy  fragments,  scattered  about  in  all  directions,  as  if  a  mine  had 
been  sprung.  The  breach  at  length  made,  back  they  would  come 
for  the  train,  which  they  tugged  along  like  so  many  camp  followers, 
until  a  fresh  obstacle  had  to  be  stormed. 

New  as  all  this  was  to  me,  it  was  exciting  and  amusing  enough 
so  long  as  it  occasioned  us  no  serious  detention;  but  just  as  we 
were  approaching  the  New  Brunswick  station,  we  ran  into  a  tre- 
mendous wreath  with  such  force,  as  to  baffle  all  our  efforts  to  get 
out  of  it  again.  In  vain  did  the  engineers  use  every  device  which 
mortal  engineer  could  hit  upon.  There  were  the  locomotives  half- 
buried  in  the  snow,  and  there  they  would  remain.  The  poor  plough, 
which  bore  the  brunt  of  the  battle,  was  completely  invisible.  Our 
position  was  like  that  of  a  great  sword-fish  which  thrusts  his  for- 
midable weapon  into  a  ship's  side  with  such  effect  that  he  cannot 
extricate  himself  again. 

"  Snagged,  I  reckon,"  said  a  Mississippian  to  the  company  ia 
general. 

"  We're  not  aground,  no  how,  that's  clear,"  added  a  Missouriaii 

beside  him. 

"I  should  like  to  see  the  ground  to  put  my  foot  on,"  said  a  man 
from  New  Hampshire,  who  must  have  stood  about  six  feet  six  in 
his  stockings. 

"I  am  sure,  stranger,  you  needn't  want  ground  where  a  seventy- 
four  will  float,"  ejaculated  the  Mississippian  laughing  and  eyeing 
him  from  head  to  foot.  The  rest  joined  in  the  laugh  against  the 
New  Hampshire  Anak,  who  drew  in  his  legs  under  his  seat,  as  \i' 
he  was  shutting  each  of  them  up  like  a  clasp  knife. 

AVe  now  anxiously  watched  the  progress  of  every  effort  made  for 
our  relief,  until  at  length  the  chilling  intelligence  was  conveyed  to 
us  that  the  fires  had  all  been  extinguished,  and  that  the  water  had 
become  frozen  in  the  boilers.  He  was  a  bold  man  who  made  this 
dismal  report  to  about  three  hundred  people,  whose  rage  increased 
with  the  hopelessness  of  their  position.  We  were  in  a  pretty  pre- 
dicament certainly.  With  three  locomotives  but  no  fire,  we  were 
like  a  besieging  army  with  plenty  of  artillery  but  no  ammunition. 
There  was  nothing  left  for  us  but  to  seek  the  station  the  best  way 
we  could,  which  we  did  by  making  a  detour  of  tlie  wreath,  and 
wading  sometimes  up  to  the  middle  in  snow.  On  gaining  it,  we 
found  it  a  large,  comfordess  room,  leaving  but  little  to  choose  be- 
tween it  and  the  carriages  which  we  had  left.  We  there  learnt  the 
impossibility  of  our  proceeding,  as  the  wreath,  which  had  impeded 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  87 

US,  extended  for  fully  Imlf  a  mile  along  the  line.  We  also  ascer- 
tained that  the  train  from  Philadelphia  had  also  stuck  fast  at  the 
other  side  of  it. 

Seeing  how  the  case  was,  I  made  my  way  to  the  nearest  hotel, 
in  the  hope  of  finding  a  bed.  But  there  was  no  shelter  extended  to 
a  forlorn  British  subject  by  this  house  of  Brunswick,  the  beds  being 
pre-engaged,  as  at  Norwich.  So  back  again,  it  being  now  dark,  1 
scrambled  through  the  snow  to  the  station,  where  I  found  many- 
loading  themselves  with  billets  of  wood,  others  provided  with  ket- 
tles full  of  hot  water,  and  others  again  with  bottles  of  spirits,  with 
glasses  and  sugar.  These  were  signs  not  to  be  mistaken,  and  I 
inquired  of  a  fellow-passenger  where  the  orgie  was  to  take  place. 
He  informed  me  that  they  had  just  made  up  their  minds  to  make  a 
comfortable  night  of  it  in  the  beleaguered  carriages.  I  abdicated  all 
independent  action,  and  followed  the  crowd.  We  were  soon  once 
more  seated  in  our  respective  cars,  with  a  brisk  lire  in  their  respect- 
ive stoves;  and  as  a  constant  intercourse  was  kept  up  between  us 
and  the  bar-room  at  the  station,  we  were  not  wanting  in  some  of  the 
creature  comforts.  We  had  a  newly  married  couple  in  our  carriage, 
and  they  alone  had  my  sympathy.  The  ceremony  had  been  per- 
formed that  very  day  in  New  York,  and  tliey  were  now  on  their 
way  to  Philadelpiiia  on  their  marriage  trip.  They  were  both  young, 
the  bridegroom  apparently  not  exceeding  twenty,  and  the  bride  look- 
ing about  sixteen.  There  she  sat,  in  her  ribbons  and  orange  blos- 
soms, looking  shy,  confused,  disappointed,  and  half  sorrowful.  Poor 
thing!     I  pitied  her. 

I  slept  fitfully  during  the  night,  as  did  most  of  my  fellow-sufferers, 
some  of  them  dreaming  of  express  trains,  and  Vv-aking  to  a  dismal 
reality.  The  wind  still  blew  fiercely  from  the  north-west,  the  fine 
snow  beating  like  steel  filings  against  the  windows  of  the  cars. 
When  morning  broke,  we  found  ourselves  completely  imbedded  to 
windward,  in  a  fresh  accumulation,  which  had  risen  against  us,  in 
that  quarter  overnight.  We  emerged  with  difficulty  from  our  prisons, 
and  again  sought  the  hotel,  where  we  breakfasted,  and  remained  till 
nearly  evening.  In  the  mean  time,  every  appliance  was  brought  to 
bear  to  clear  the  line.  A  small  army  of  men  with  shovels  prepared 
the  way  for  the  snow  plough,  which  kept  constantly  at  their  heels; 
at  one  time,  in  a  mere  freak,  pushing  these  men,  shovels  and  all, 
deep  into  the  wreath,  from  which  they  were  extricated,  more  fright- 
ened than  hurt.  These  operations  had  scarcely  been  continued  for 
a  quarter  of  a  mile,  when  those  at  work  encountered  another  party, 
similarly  employed,  coming  in  the  opposite  direction.  They  met 
with  a  shout,  in  which  we  all  joined,  and  the  passengers  of  the  two 
trains  solaced  each  other,  for  some  time,  with  a  mutual  recital  of 
their  sufferings.  We  found  that  we  had  fared  the  better  of  the  two; 
for,  the  Philadelphia  train  having  been  interrupted  half  a  mile  from 


8S  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

any  sncronr,  the  passengers  by  it  had  to  \veati)er  the  niL^iit,  as  tliey 
best  could,  without  tire,  or  any  of  the  other  comforts,  which  were 
at  our  cojumand. 

It  was  seven  o'clock  ere  we  finally  quitted  New  Brunswick,  and, 
in  three  hours  more,  we  were  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Delaware. 
The  picture  was  gloomy  enough,  which  loomed  upon  my  sight,  in 
the  imperfect  light  of  a  star-lit  sky,  as  1  stood  upon  the  deck  of  the 
ferry-boat.  In  tiie  foreground  was  the  broad  expanse  of  the  Dela- 
ware, literally  covered  with  broken  masses  of  ice,  which  floated  up 
and  down  with  the  tide;  whilst  on  the  opposite  shore  gleamed  the 
litrhts  of  the  city,  as  few  and  far  between  as  are  those  of  London  on 
the  Thames.  It  was  some  time  ere  we  got  under  weigh,  and  we 
look  fully  twenty  minutes  to  cross,  liie  ice  sometimes  defying  the 
eflbrts  of  the  lusty,  thick-headed  ferry-boat.  To  save  time,  our  lug- 
gage was  distributed  to  us  on  board.  It  was  bitter  cold,  and  I  was 
heartily  glad  when  at  length,  after  a  somewhat  chequered  journey, 
performed,  under  ordinary  circumstances,  in  from  four  to  five  hours, 
I  stepped  ashore  in  the  "Quaker  City." 


CHAPTER  VII. 


PHILADELPHIA. 


An  unexpected  Reception. — An  indigenous  Product,  and  an  Exotic. — A  negro 
Porter  and  Guide. — Characteristics  of  Philadelphia. — Public  Buildings. — 
The  United  States  Bank.— The  State  House. — Girard  College. — Its  Foun 
der'sWill. — Street- Architecture. — Situation  of  Philadelphia. — The  Schuyl- 
kill.—The  Water- Works. — Fairmount, — External  life  in  Philadelphia. — 
Habits  and  tastes  of  the  People. — Excursions  in  the  Neighbourhood. — Cam- 
t\en. — Contrast  between  the  two  shores  of  the  Delaware. — View  of  the 
City  from  the  New  Jersey  shore. 

On  landing,  I  found  all  as  still  as  if  we  had  entered  the  precincts 
of  a  churchyard.  The  ferry-boat  slip  was  deserted,  not  a  soul  ap- 
pearing to  welcome  us,  or  give  us  succour.  On  inquiry  of  the  cap- 
tain, as  to  the  means  of  getting  my  luggage  transported  to  Jones's 
Hotel,  to  which  I  was  recommended  by  a  friend  in  New  York, 
that  functionary  informed  me  that  outside  were  plenty  of  porters 
to  execute  our  orders.  "Outside"  had  reference  to  a  high  and 
close  wooden  paling,  which  railed  off  the  slip  from  the  adjacent 
street,  in  which  paling  was  a  door,  which,  in  due  course  of  time, 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  89 

was  thrown  open.  The  gush  which  follows  the  displaeing  of  the 
plug-  from  a  water  cask,  is  not  more  spontaneous  or  imj)etuous  than 
was  then  the  crush  of  the  grinning-,  jabbering,  and  officious  negroes, 
who  sprung  upon  us  from  their  ambuscade,  and  overpowered  us 
before  we  had  lime  to  recover  from  our  surprise.  I  found  myself 
in  a  moment  between  two  of  them,  who  leered  at  me  most  hide- 
ously, their  white  teelh,  and  the  whites  of  their  eves,  shining 
ghastily  in  the  feeble  light  of  the  solitary  lamp,  which  did  its  best 
to  illuminate  the  slip. 

"Porter,  Sa,"  said  one  of  them,  thrusting,  at  the  same  time,  into 
my  hand  a  card,  with  23  upon  it,  in  large  characters,  as  black  as 
himself. 

"I'm  in  de  cheap  line,  massa,"  said  the  other — "no  'nop'ly's 
my  word." 

"Cheap! — neber  mind  him,  Sa;  he's  only  a  nigija  from  Balti- 
more, just  come  to  Philadelphy,"  retorted  the  first  speaker,  regarding 
liis  competitor  with  scowling  eyes  and  pouting  lips.  He  then  con- 
tinued: "I'se  born  here,  Sa,  and  know  de  town  like  a  book.  Dat 
ere  nig-ga  not  seen  good  society  yet — knows  nuffiii — habn^t  got  de 
polish  on.—  Git  out,  nigga,  and  clean  you  self;"  and  he  turned  on 
Jiis  heel,  and  laughed  heartily — yhaw  — yhaw — yhaw. 

It  was  not  his  familiar  contact  with  good  society,  or  any  superior 
grace  which  I  perceived  in  him,  but  the  circumstance  of  his  nati- 
vity, which  induced  me  to  give  the  preference  to  23,  judging  myself 
fiafer  in  the  hands  of  a  native  citizen,  mIio  had  a  reputation  to  sus- 
tain, than  in  those  of  a  mere  bird  of  passage.  1  accordingly  com- 
missioned him  to  carry  my  luo-gage  to   .Jones's. 

"  De  best  house  in  Philadelphy,  Sa,"  said  he,  as  he  transferred 
my  portal anteau  to  his  truck. 
"Is  it  far  off'?-'  I  inquired. 

"  Good  bit  from  de  Mater,"  said  he,  "but  not  fur  when  you  get 
dere." 

Having  delivered  himself  of  this  incontrovertible  proposition,  he 
disappeared  in  the  crowd,  from  which  he  soon  emerged,  bearing 
on  his  shoulders  a  huge  leather  trunk,  formidably  studded  with 
what  appeared  to  be  the  heads  of  large  brass  bolts. 

"Where  to,  Sa?"  he  demanded  of  the   owiiar,  as    he  suff'ered  it 
to  drop  heavily  beside  my  portmanteau, 
"Congress  Hall,"  was  the  reply, 

"De  best  house  in   town,  Sa,"  he   added,  in    a  tone    whicli   dis- 
played an  utter  unconsciousness  of  having  contradicted  himself. 
"You  told  me  that  Jones's  was  the  best,"  I  remarked. 
"Well,  so  I    did,"  he  replied,  coolly;  "gome    say  one   de  best, 
some  toder, — I  tink  both  best, — dat's  all." 

There  was  no  rebutting  this  view  of  the  ease,  so  off"  we  started. 
Philadelphia  goes  early  to  bed,  and  the  streets  were  lonely  and 

8* 


90  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

silent,  but  much  belter  liirhtetl  tlian  the  portion  of  the  town  abutting 
upon  the  Delaware.  Our  course  lay  up  Chestnut-street,  the  lofty 
and  regular  terraces  of  which  frowned  gloomily,  at  that  hour,  over 
the  narrow  thoroughfare. 

"Holloa,  23,  where  are  you  going?"  asked  I,  as  he  turned  his 
truck  into  a  street,  which  led  to  the  right. 

"Only  up  dis  turnin'  a  bit,  to  Congress  Hall,"  said  that  sable  nu- 
meral: "  but  you  needn't  wait— dis  child  follow  with  de  luggage- 
he  knows  de  way  to  Jones's  by  husself,  by  dis  time,  I  s'pose." 
"  Yes,  but  I  don't  know  the  way,"  added  I. 

"Straight  ahead,  Sa,  and  that's  Jones's,"  said  he;  and  he  left  me 
to  act  as  I  pleav-ed.  I  made  the  best  use  I  could  of  this  very  definite 
direction,  and  discovered  the  hotel,  some  distance  further  up  Chest- 
nut Street.  It  was  fully  half  an  hour,  however,  ere  Blackey  made 
his  appearance;  and,  on  my  remonstrating  with  him  for  his  delay, 
he  assured  me  that  it  was  all  right,  as  he  had  only  stopped  to  con- 
verse in  the  street  with  a  "coloured  gen'leman,  a  friend  of  his,  in 
the  shaving  line,"  who  was  a  "great  genias,"  and  "knowed  all  about 
de  foreign  relations."  I  asked^'him  how  he  would  like  to  wait  half 
an  hour'' for  his  pay,  to  which  he  replied  that  he  had  "no  objections, 
if  I  would  pay  de  discount  for  de  use  of  de  money." 

The  city  of  Philadelphia,  perhaps  more  than  any  other  upon  the  con- 
tinent, is  marked  by  characteristics  peculiarly  American.     A  Euro- 
pean, suddenly  transferred  to  Boston,  might  mistake  his  whereabouts, 
from  its  crowded,  crooked,  and  intricate  appearance.     New  York,  too, 
is   distinguished   by  but  a  partial  regularity,  which  is   the  case  with 
all  the  growing  towns  of  the  Old  World.     But  every  where  in  Phila- 
delphia are  discernible  the  same  symmetry  of  oudine  and  regularity 
of  plan.     Long,  straight  streets,  each  of  which  is  the  counterpart  of 
all  the  rest,  and  intersecting  each  other  at  right  angles,  with  a  few 
small   and  well  wooded  squares,  will  enable   the   reader  to  form  a 
tolerably  accurate  estimate  of  the  town.     There  is  but  one  short  cut 
that  I  could  discover  in  all  Philadelphia,  and  that  is  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  the  Exchange.     So  unlooked-for  an  oddity  in  such  a  place 
put  me  on  inquiry;  but  nobody  could  tell  me   how  it  got  there.     It 
is  found   so  useful,  however,  that  many  wish  it  multiplied  to  an 
indefinite    extent.      Distances    within    the    town   are    measured    by 
blocks, — a   block   being   the    square    space   enclosed    between    four 
streets.     The  same  daring  red  brick,  which  enters  into  the  compo- 
sition of  New  York,  stares  you  every  where  in   the   face,  relieved 
here  and   there   by   a   marble  building,  or  a  terrace,  stuccoed   and 
painted  to  resemble  marble.     Most  of  the  streets  are  lined  on  either 
side  with  trees,  the  boughs  of  which   frequently  intermin»le   above 
the  thoroughfare,  and,  in  the  summer  time,  conceal,  by  the  luxuriance 
of  their  foliage,  as  you  look  along  the  vista  of  the  streets,  the  houses 
on  both  sides   from  your  view.     This  is  chiefly  confined  to  the 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  91 

private  streets,  although  some  of  the  busiest  thoroughfares  are  marked 
by  the  same  arborescent  feature.  At  every  intersection  of  two 
streets,  the  country  is  visible  in  four  different  directions,  seen  as 
through  the  diminishing  end  of  a  telescope.  In  one  respect  it  differs 
from  most  other  American  towns;  for,  with  plenty  of  room  to  spread 
in,  the  streets  are  equally  narrow.  With  the  exception  of  Market- 
Street,  which  is  very  wide,  the  other  streets  of  Philadelphia  scarcely 
exceed  the  width  of  Ludgate-hill.  In  nothing  did  the  prudent  Penii 
show  his  foresight  more  than  in  this.  To  make  a  street  wider  than 
is  absolutely  necessary  is  a  great  mistake, — a  very  wide  street,  whilst 
the  expense  of  keeping  it  in  repair  is  great,  being  but  ill  adapted  for 
business  purposes, — a  fact,  in  discovering  which,  Penn  seems  to 
have  been  a  couple  of  centuries  in  advance  of  his  countrymen.  Be- 
sides, whether  deservedly  or  not,  Philadelphia  enjoys  the  reputation 
of  being  the  hottest  city  in  the  Union,  the  feature  in  question  greatly 
contributing,  during  summer,  to  the  comfort  of  its  inhabitants,  the 
streets  lying  in  one  direction,  being  constantly  in  shade,  which,  with 
the  exception  of  a  short  period,  at  noon,  may  also  be  said  of  those 
intersecting  them.  The  value  of  this  may  be  appreciated,  when  it 
is  understood  that,  in  summer,  the  thermometer  sometimes  rises  to 
above  100°  of  Fahrenheit  in  the  shade.  It  rose  to  104°  one  Sunday 
that  I  afterwards  spent  there,  when,  if  a  breath  of  air  swept  by,  it 
gave  litde  relief,  feeling  more  like  a  hot  blast  than  otherwise.  "  On 
the  following  day  the  thermometer  ranged  at  about  the  same  point, 
when  nearly  thirty  deaths  occurred  in  Philadelphia  from  stiokes  of 
the  sun,  almost  all  the  victims  being  labourers,  and  such  as  were 
exposed  to  its  fierce  mid-day  heat.  Horses,  too,  every  where  dropped 
dead  in  the  streets;  a  similar  mortality,  though  to  less  extent,  visiting 
on  the  same  day  the  cities  of  Boston,  New  York,  and  Baltimore. 
It  is  as  a  resource  against  this  intense  heat  that  the  windows  of  all 
the  private  residences  are  flanked  outside  by  Venitian  blinds,  and 
many  of  them  by  solid  shutters.  Curious  enough  is  the  spectacle 
which  a  fashionable  street  in  Philadelphia  presents  from  about  ten 
in  the  morning  till  five  in  the  evening  of  a  broiling  summer's  day. 
It  looks  quite  deserted,  the  shutters  being  all  closed,  so  as  not  only 
to  exclude  every  particle  of  light,  but  also  every  breath  of  air;  the 
families  melting,  in  the  meantime,  in  some  secluded  back  room  in 
the  more  sheltered  part  of  their  respective  habitations.  About  the 
latter  mentioned  hour,  they  begin  to  migrate  to  the  front,  when  the 
street  presents  a  new  aspect,  shutters,  M'indoAvs,  doors,  and  all  being 
now  thrown  open  to  catch  every  breath  of  the  cool  evening  air. 
Without  this  strategy  against  sun  and  heat,  there  M'ould  be  no  living 
in  Philadelphia  during  the  months  of  July  and  August.  Such  of 
the  residents  as  can  add  to  this  the  luxury  of  summer  furniture,  ex- 
changing the  carpet  for  a  light  grass  matting,  and  substituting  slim 
cane-bottomed  chairs  for  those  of  a  heavier  calibre,  manage,  duiinff 


92  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

tlie  period  referred  to,  to  eke  out  a  tolerable  existence.  The  same 
plan,  as  tar  as  the  means  of  parties  will  permit,  is  adopted  during 
the  hotter  months,  tliroualiout  the  Union;  the  only  mode  of  keeping 
a  house  then  comfortable  being  to  close  it  up  for  the  day,  and  to 
open  it  at  night. 

Pliiladelphia  abounds  in  public  buildings,  some  of  which,  archi- 
tecturally speaking,  are  of  considerable  pretensions.  The  most 
striking  within  the  precincts  of  the  town,  both  as  regards  appearance, 
and  the  associations  connected  with  it,  is  the  old  United  Stales  Bank. 
It  assumes  the  form  of  a  Greek  tem})le,  with  a  fine  massive  portico 
turned  upon  Chestnut-street.  The  whole  edifice,  which  is  large,  is 
constructed  of  marble,  and  is  approached  in  front  by  a  broad  and 
magnificent  flight  of  marble  steps,  by  wiiich  you  ascend  to  the  lofty 
platform,  on  wliich  it  appears  to  be  elevated  from  tlie  street.  It  has 
now  a  deserted  and  gloomy  look,  as  if  ashamed  of  the  transactions 
of  which  it  was  formerly  the  scene.  The  marble  steps,  once  so 
crowded  with  busy  and  scheming  muhitudes,  now  echo  but  to  the 
occasional  footsteps  of  the  stranger  who  is  curious  enough  to  ascend 
them.  The  carcass  is  still  there,  in  all  its  pristine  beauty,  but  the 
resdess,  scheming,  and  unscrupulous  soul  which  once  animated  it, 
has  fled.  I  looked  upon  it  and  thought  of  Sidney  Smith;  and  then 
crowded  to  my  mind  recollections  of  the  misery  which  had  been 
wrought,  botli  in  Europe  and  America,  by  the  injudicious  transac- 
tions and  criminal  speculation  of  the  fallen  monster.  The  vaunted 
"regulator,"  which  was  so  beneficially  to  influence  the  financial 
movements  of  a  continent,  could  not  properly  control  its  own;  and 
the  institution  which  was  to  consolidate  business  by  moderating 
epeculation,  became  itself  the  most  audacious  and  the  most  unfortu- 
nate speculator  of  the  time.  The  Exchange,  in  which  is  included 
the  post-ofiice,  is  a  showy  building,  but  merits  no  very  particular 
attention. 

To  me  the  most  interestinir  buildino-  of  all  was  the  "State  House." 
It  is  a  long  pile  of  red  brick,  having  stone  facings,  with  an  open 
archway  through  the  centre,  passing  into  a  small  square  behind,  and 
surmounted  by  a  quaint-iookinjj  cupola,  which  rises  to  a  considera!)le 
elevation.  It  is  situated  in  Chestnut-Street,  a  little  back  from  the 
line  of  the  street,  having  a  broad,  open,  brick  pavement  in  front. 
Its  architectural  pretensions  are  of  a  very  slender  order,  but  its  his- 
toric recollections  are  stirring  and  suggestive.  It  is  one  of  the  few 
remnants  now  left  in  Philadelphia  of  colonial  times.  And  to  what 
events  in  the  history  of  liumanity  did  it  give  birth!  \Vithin  its 
walls  took  place  the  earliest  meetings  of  the  Continental  Congress; 
and,  in  a  small  room  on  the  ground  floor  on  your  left,  as  you  enter 
the  centre  archway,  was  discussed  and  adopted  the  declaration  of 
American  independence — the  great  deed  of  separation  between  tlie 
mother  country  and  her  tributary  continent — a  documei^t  which,  in 


THE  WESTERN   WORLD.  93 

view  of  the  influence,  whether  for  weal  or  for  wo,  which  it  is  yet 
destined  to  wiehl  over  the  foriiines  of  the  human  race,  is  entided  to 
be  regarded  as  the  most  remarkable  ever  penned.  It  is  painful  to 
contrast  with  the  ni)ble  race  of  men  which  the  trying  circumstances 
of  their  country  then  called  forth,  the  many  degenerate  successors 
who  have  since  represented  them  at  Washington.  The  pile  which 
witnessed  their  steady  resolution  and  anxious  deliberations  is  already 
more  a  monument  of  the  past  than  a  thing  of  present  utility,  the 
transference  of  the  state  government  to  Harrisburg  having  deprived  it 
of  its  legislative  character.  But  it  is  not  for  what  it  is,  but  for  what  it 
lKl^^  been,  that  the  Philadelphians  justly  prize  their  old  "Stale  House." 

The  principal  edifice  in  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  and  indeed  the 
finest  in  the  whole  city,  is  Girard  Colles^e,  a  marble  structure,  built 
after  the  fashion,  and  of  about  the  same  dimensions,  as  the  Madelina 
in  Paris.  It  is  the  result  of  a  magnificent  bequest  made  by  a  wealthy 
banker  of  the  city,  whose  name  it  bears,  for  the  education  of  poor 
orphan  children,  the  trustees  being  stricdy  enjoined  by  the  will,  to 
erect  a  plain  edifice,  and  thus  economize  the  funds  for  the  principal 
object  in  view;  and  to  prohibit  the  entrance  into  the  institution,  in 
an  official  capacity,  of  any  clergyman  of  any  denomination.  I  believe 
that  in  the  latter  particular  they  have  been  faithful  to  their  trust, 
although  as  to  the  former,  they  contrived  to  overstep  the  terms  of 
the  will,  and,  in  building  a  marble  palace,  have  so  crippled  their 
resources,  that  the  chief  purpose  of  the  testator  has  been  well  nigh 
frustrated.  The  city  and  its  neighbourhood  abound  in  charitable 
institutions,  some  of  them  established  on  the  most  extensive  scale, 
one  of  which  forms,  as  it  were,  a  small  town  by  itself,  on  the  right 
bank  of  the  Schuylkill,  on  the  road  from  Philadelphia  to  Baltimore. 

The  street  architecture  of  Philadelphia  is  of  a  high  order,  being 
much  more  regular  and  pleasing  in  its  effect  than  that  of  either  Bos- 
ton or  New  York,  The  private  residences  in  the  fashionable  quar- 
ters are  large  and  exceedingly  commodious;  but  such  is  the  same- 
ness in  their  internal  arrangements,  that  when  you  have  seen  one, 
you  have  virtually  seen  all. 

For  most  purposes  connected  with  a  great  city,  the  situation  of 
Philadelphia  was  admirably  chosen.  Occupying  a  site  more  than 
a  hundred  miles  above  the  mouth  of  the  Delaware,  but  yet  not 
beyond  the  reach  of  tide-water,  and  being  accessible  to  ships  of  the 
deepest  draught  and  the  largest  burden,  the  real  capital  of  Pennsyl- 
vania combines  all  the  advantages  of  a  seaport  with  the  safety  of  an 
interior  town.  About  four  miles  below  the  city,  the  Schuylkill, 
after  running  parallel  with  it  for  several  miles  of  its  course,  turns 
suddenly  to  the  left,  and  empties  itself  into  the  Delaware.  Where 
the  city  stands,  the  distance  between  the  main  stream  and  its  tribu- 
tary is  about  two  miles.  One  set  of  streets  runs  parallel  to  each 
other,  from  stream  to  stream  ;  the  others  intersecting  them  at  regular 


94  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

distances,  and  running  parallel  to  the  rivers  whicli  Hank  ihem.     The 
spot  ciiosen  was  such  as  almost  necessarily  to  have  sugtrested  this 
arrangement  for  the  future  city.     Its  greatest  length  is  now  in  the 
direction  from  river  to  riv^er,  the  space  between  them  being  almost 
entirely  tilled  up  ;  the  town,  at  the  same  time,  resting  on  a  broad 
basis  on  the  Delaware,  where  it  is  most  densely  built  and  its  chief 
business   is   carried  on.     Front-street,  which  looks  upon  the  river, 
with  a  broad  quay  before  it,  has,  in  some  places,  a  rather  dilapidated 
look;  but  in  it,  as  in  the  two  streets  immediately  behind  it,  is  con- 
ducted  the  chief  wholesale  business  of   the  town.      The    streets 
parallel  to  the  river  are  named,  1st,  2d,  3d,  and  so  on;  whilst  those 
which  stretch  from  stream  to  stream  are  called  after  the  different 
kinds  of  trees  al)ounding  in  the  neighbourhood,  such  as  Chestnut,  Pine, 
Walnut,  (tc,  and  by  other  names,  to  distincruish  them  from  the  num- 
bered streets.     In  receding  from  the  Delaware,  Third-street  seems 
to  be  the  dividing  line  between  the  wholesale  and  the  retail  business 
of  the  town;  partaking  itself  larg^ely  of  both,  and  with  the  exception 
of  Market-street,  which  is  the  gTcat  retail  mart,  being  the  most  bus- 
tling of  any  in  the  city,  comprising,  as  it  does,  the  Exchange,  some 
of  the  banks,  and  many  of  the  newspaper  offices. 

It  is  to  the  Schuylkill  that  Philadelphia  is  indebted  for  that  super- 
abundant supply  of  fresh  water  which  ministers  so  much  to  the  com- 
fort of  its  inhabitants.  Close  to  the  town,  a  dam  is  thrown  across 
the  river,  and  by  the  power  thus  attained,  the  Schuylkill  is  made  to 
pump  itself  into  an  enormous  reservoir,  constructed  on  the  top  of 
a  contiguous  mound,  which  goes  by  the  name  of  Fairmount.  It  is 
from  this  elevation,  perhaps,  that  the  best  bird's-eye  view  of  Phila- 
delphia is  obtained,  lying  as  it  does  on  a  hot  July  day,  like  a  great 
flat  overbaked  brick-field  below  you.  The  supply  of  water,  dis- 
tributed from  this  reservoir,  is  inexhaustible;  at  least,  the  Philadel- 
j)hians  use  it  as  if  it  were  so.  You  meet  it  every  where,  lavished 
on  every  purpose,  municipal,  domestic,  and  personal.  Philadelphia 
seems  to  begin  each  day  with  a  general  ablution.  On  arriving  one 
morning  early  from  the  south,  I  found  the  streets  deluged  with 
water,  some  recondite  plug  seeming  to  have  been  extracted  in  front 
of  every  house,  and  the  water  so  squirting  and  gushing  about  in  all 
directions,  that  it  was  no  easy  matter  to  avoid  it.  Not  only  were 
windows,  doors,  and  door-steps  being  cleaned,  but  the  brick  pave- 
ments themselves  came  in  for  their  share  of  scrubbing;  and,  shortly 
afterwards,  when  the  sun  had  dried  them,  they  looked  as  clean  and 
fresh  as  if  they  had  just  been  laid  down.  In  winter,  of  course,  the 
general  bath  is  less  frequently  repeated.  Nowhere  is  the  utility  of 
this  superfluity  so  perceptible  as  in  the  market,  so  widely  and  justly 
celebrated  for  its  cleanliness.  And  no  thanks  to  it.  St.  Giles's 
would  itself  be  clean,  if  subjected  to  such  an  ordeal.  The  market 
consists  of  a  long  succession  of  narrow  sheds,  running  down  the 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  95 

Cehtte  of  Market-street,  which  sheds,  at  the  close  of  each  day's 
operations,  are,  one  and  all  of  them,  copiously  visited  by  the  puri- 
fying influence  of  Fairmount. 

Nowhere  does  Philadelphia  present  the  same  impetuous  activity 
as  New  York.  It  has  an  orderly  and  decorous  look  about  it,  very 
much  at  variance  v/ ilh  the  turbulent  scenes  of  which  it  has  recently 
been  the  witness.  It  is  nevertheless  a  lively  town  in  its  external 
aspect,  and,  under  a  prim  surface,  conceals  a  good  deal  of  gaiety. 
But  of  society  in  Philadelphia  I  shall  have  occasion  hereafter  to 
speak.  A  mannerism  pervades  the  streets  different  from  any  thing 
witnessed  elsewhere.  In  Chestnut-street,  the  principal  promenade, 
there  is  far  less  jauntiness  than  in  Broadway.  Philadelphians,  both 
in  dress  and  manner,  are  subdued,  as  compared  with  their  more 
showy  neighbours.  But  their  manner  combines  grace  with  quiet- 
ness; their  dress,  elegance  with  simplicity.  Catch  your  Philadel- 
phia belle  dress  in  any  thing  but  the  richest  stuff,  but  yet  she  wears 
it  as  if  the  severer  attire  of  her  ancestors  was  constantly  before  her 
eyes.  They  do  not  discard  the  fashions,  but  then  they  do  not 
worship  them  -with  the  devotion  characteristic  of  their  sisters  on 
the  Hudson.  I  was  seated,  one  Sunday  evening,  with  a  crowd  of 
loungers,  on  the  balcony  of  the  hotel  overlooking  Chestnut-street, 
watching  the  streams  of  people  that  passed  to  and  fro,  on  their  way 
to  their  respective  churches.  Not  far  from  me  was  seated  an  officer 
of  the  army,  in  conversation  with  a  friend. 

"  Who,  think  you,"  said  the  former,  "  was  the  most  flashily 
dressed  man  I  met  to-day?" 

"  Can't  tell,"  said  his  friend. 

"  Why,  a  corporal  in  my  own  company,  to  be  sure,"  added  the 
officer.     "  He  looked  like  a  blue  jay  amongst  fan-tails." 

"Is  he  a  Philadelphian?"  inquired  the  other. 

"  No,"  replied  the  officer,  "  he's  from  the  '  land  of  steady 
habits.'" 

"Ah,  from  Connecticut,"  said  his  friend;  "he  must  have  passed 
through  Broadway  on  his  way  here  then." 

With  this  exception,  external  life  in  Philadelphia  is  pretty  much 
what  life  in  New  York  is.  Indeed,  so  constant  and  regular  is  the 
intercourse  now  between  the  two,  that  it  could  not  be  otherwise. 
Amusements  are  as  varied  in  the  former  as  in  the  latter,  but  the 
passion  for  them  is  not  so  great.  The  number  of  theatres  is  small 
in  proportion  to  the  population,  and  it  is  seldom  that  they  are  all 
open  together.  The  Philadelphians  are  fond  of  music,  and  when  a 
good  operatic  company  make  their  appearance,  they  receive  them 
well.  They  do  not  dishke  the  ballet,  but  they  have  no  enthusiasm 
for  its  extravagances.  The  city  abounds  with  libraries  and  literary 
institutions,  and  to  the  credit  of  its  inhabitants,  most  of  them  are 
well  sustained.     There  are  also  many  pleasant  excursions  in  the 


96  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

neighbourhood,  to  which  they  resort  in  the  summer  time.  Steam 
ferry-boats  connect  the  city  every  ten  minutes  with  the  New  Jersey 
shore  of  the  Delaware.  On  a  summer  afternoon,  hundreds  crowd 
these  boats  on  their  way  to  the  gardens  in  Camden,  a  small  but 
scattered  town  on  the  other  side,  and  which  may  be,  in  fact,  regarded 
as  one  of  the  suburbs  of  the  city.  Many  of  those  whose  business 
is  in  Philadelphia  reside  here,  escaping  in  New  Jersey  the  heavy 
taxation  of  overburdened  Pennsylvania.  In  the  tea  gardens  there 
is  a  touch  of  Parisian  life;  crowds  regaling  themselves  in  the  open 
air,  beneath  the  trees,  with  the  multiform  drinks  of  the  country. 

The  Delaware  presents  a  curious  contrast  in  the  character  "of  its 
opposite  shore.  The  Pennsylvanian  bank  is  composed  of  a  heavy 
impassive  clay,  which  disappears  altogether  on  the  New  Jersey  side, 
where  you  encounter  a  deep  tine  sand.  This  contrast  is  observable 
from  Cape  Ann,  to  the  northernmost  point  of  New  Jersey  upon  the 
river,  and  is  so  complete,  as  to  elicit  the  astonishment  of  all  who  wit- 
ness it.  Indeed,  nearly  the  whole  state  of  New  Jersey  is  one  great 
bank  of  sand,  intervening  between  the  Delaware  and  the  Hudson, 
and  the  difference  alluded  to  may  be  accounted  for  on  the  supposi- 
tion of  its  being  a  later  formation  thrown  up  by  the  joint  action  of 
the  sea,  and  the  two  great  rivers  which  flank  it. 

The  city  is  seen  to  great  advantage,  when  viewed  from  Camden, 
on  a  bright  summer  day.  And  with  such  a  view  I  shall  take  leave 
of  it  for  the  present.  The  river  is  about  a  mile  in  width,  and  the 
town  seems  to  rise  from  the  water  on  its  opposite  shore  as  abruptly 
as  a  sea-wall.  Its  outline  is  almost  unbroken  by  a  single  spire  or 
turret.  Down  the  river  its  limit  seems  to  be  marked'  by  the  navy  yard, 
the  sheds  of  which  loom  over  every  object  in  the  level  district  which 
surrounds  them.  Out  of  these  sheds  have  issued  some  of  the  largest 
ships  in  the  world,  and  some  of  the  finest  in  the  American  service. 
The  district  contiguous  to  them  is  South wark,  chiefly  inhabited  by 
working  people.  Carrying  your  eye  over  the  body  of  tlia  city,  you 
have  to  your  right,  some  distance  up  the  river,  the  suburban  district 
of  Kensington,  of  which  it  is  enough  to  say  that  it  is  the  Irish  quarter 
of  Philadelphia.  Farther  up  still,  and  terminating  the  city  in  that 
direction,  is  the  port  of  Richmond,  called  into  existence  by  tiie 
rapid  increase  of  the  coal  trade.  It  is  easy  to  distinguish  it  by  the 
cluster  of  coasters  which  are  constantly  at  its  wharves.  The  city 
too,  is  in  front  well  lined  witli  sjiipping,  which  come  close  to  the 
shore,  as  at  New  York;  but  as  compared  with  whicli  Philadelphia 
as  a  sea-port  is  insignificant.  It  is  destined  to  be  more  of  a  manu- 
facturing than  a  maritime  town.  Below  the  town,  the  river  swells 
into  a  noble  basin,  which  is  frequently  studded  with  shipping.  A 
sail  upon  the  Delaware  is  a  treat;  and  prominent  amongst  my  most 
pleasant  recollections  of  America,  is  my  approach  by  steamer  from 
below  to  Philadelphia  at  an  early  hour  on  a  July  morning,  when 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  97 

the  mist  of  daybreak,  succeeding'  a  dewy  night,  were  rolled  away 
by  the  rising  sun,  displaying  the  river  so  full  and  lively,  and  its 
banks  and  islets  so  fresh  and  green,  and  the  distant  city,  yet  scarce 
awake,  reposing  under  a  sky  without  a  cloud  or  a  speck  to  tarnish 
its  deep  and  lustrous  blue. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A  JOURNEY    FROM    PHILADELPHIA    TO    BALTIJIORE    AND 

WASHINGTON. 

Dangerous  Customers. — Delaw'are. — Wilmington. — Tobacco  chewing. — A 
painful  incident. — The  Susquehanna. — Canvass-back  Ducks. — The  Suburb 
of  Canton. — Baltimore. — Position  and  Trade. — Baltimore  Beauties. — De- 
parture for  Washington. — A  slight  Accident. — Arrival  in  the  Capital. — 
Fellovv-Travellers. 

About  a  hundred  miles  of  raihvay  connect  Baltimore  with  Phila- 
delphia, the  petty  State  of  Delaware  being  crossed  by  the  road 
uniting  the  capital  of  Maryland  with  that  of  Pennsylvania.  In  its 
application  to  both  places,  I  use  the  word  "  capital"  in  its  virtual 
signification,  not  in  its  political  sense ;  Harrisburgh  being,  as  already 
mentioned,  in  the  latter  point  of  view,  the  capital  of  Pennsylvania, 
whilst  that  of  Maryland  is  an  insignificant  town  on  the  Chesapeake, 
called  Annapolis. 

For  two  miles  out  of  Philadelphia  you  are  drawn,  at  an  exciting 
trot,  by  a  number  of  horses.  Emerging  from  a  small  cramped  sta- 
tion in  Market-street  you  proceed  along  a  number  of  streets,  the 
carriages  being  so  constructed  as  to  enable  them,  without  diminish- 
ing speed,  to  be  whipped  round  the  rectangular  corners  formed  by 
the  intersections  of  the  streets  with  perfect  safety.  In  quitting  Phi- 
ladelphia, you  leave  it  quite  as  suddenly  as  you  enter  it.  It  is  not, 
like  most  large  towns,  surrounded,  on  its  land  sides,  by  long  strag- 
gling suburbs.  It  seems  every  where  to  begin  and  to  end  all  at  once. 
At  one  moment  you  seem  to  be  in  the  midst  of  a  densely  built 
district,  at  the  next  you  are  as  completely  in  the  country  as  if  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  town  was  all  an  illusion.  A  curious  efTect  has 
this  abrupt  transition,  being  somethinor  like  that  which  would  be 
produced  upon  a  cockney,  if  he  were  lifted  from  Cheapside  and 
let  down  instantly  on  Wimbledon-common.  One  likes  to  see  the 
VOL.  I. — 9 


9S  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

stragfgling'  acljiinets  of  a  town  accompany  him  some  way  into  the 
country.  Philadelphia  may  have  a  good  deal  of  the  i'us  in  itrhe, 
but  it  has  none  of  the  nibs  in  rxre  ;  and  in  quitting  it,  you  feel  as 
if  you  had  taken  leave  of  a  friend,  without  being  shown  to  the 
door. 

You  have  to  cross  the  Schuylkill  by  a  long  covered  bridge,  ere 
you  succeed  in  your  search  for  a  locomotive.  This  civic  proscrip- 
tion of  railway  engines  may  appear  very  unreasonable  to  us,  but  it  is  a 
very  necessary  piece  of  municipal  policy  in  America,  where  every 
town  ranks  amongst  its  more  prominent  qualities  a  very  high  degree 
of  inflammability.  With  us,  locomotives  are  fed  on  nothing  but 
coke  ;  in  America  they  devour  nothing  but  wood ;  and,  like  a 
horse  kept  exclusively  upon  oats,  the  latter  are  difficult  to  manage, 
from  the  nature  of  their  diet.  They  are  constantly  attended  by  a 
formidable  train  of  obdurate  sparks,  and  sometimes  amuse  them- 
selves on  the  way  by  setting  fire  to  a  barn,  a  hayrick,  and  the  like, 
and,  when  they  have  nothing  else  to  do,  burning  down  a  fence. 
Such  customers  would  soon  make  Philadelphia  too  hot  for  them, 
and  therefore  their  exclusion  ;  the  corporation  having  a  sufficient 
number  of  turbulent  spirits  already  to  deal  with,  without  the  ad- 
mission of  those  who  would  be  sure  to  excite  a  flame. 

Shortly  after  passing  Chester,  the  last  station  in  Pennsylvania, 
you  enter  the  State  of  Delaware,  somewhat  larger  in  area  than 
Middlesex,  and  with  a  population  in  number  a  little  more  than  half 
that  of  the  parish  of  Marylebone.  Estimating  its  resources  in  1776 
from  their  present  development,  it  did  a  bold  thing  to  rebel  in  tiiat 
memorable  year,  and  may  have  been  bullied  into  the  act  by  its  big- 
ger brothers  and  sisters.  I  amused  myself  for  some  time  trying  to 
calculate  the  infinitessimally  small  chance  it  would  have  of  subsist- 
ing for  a  single  lustrum,  as  an  independent  constitutional  entity  on 
the  continent  of  Europe.  Providence  has  luckily  placed  it  where 
it  can  hold  its  head  as  high  as  any  of  its  neighbours,  and  it  some- 
times holds  very  saucy  language  to  the  "  great  powers  "  around  it. 
Comparatively  weak  as  it  is,  it  has  contrived  to  secure,  in  one 
branch  of  the  federal  legislature  at  least,  as  good  a  footing  and 
as  potent  a  voice  as  New  York,  which  is  twenty  times  its  size, 
with  nearly  thirty  times  its  population.  This  microscopic  State, 
however,  has  managed  to  do  that  which  more  puissant  sovereignties 
have  ever  been  unequal  to — it  has  kept  clear  of  debt.  Side  by  side 
with  Pennsylvania,  it  affords  a  notable  instance  of  prudence  in  jux- 
taposition with  prodigality  ;  the  one  being  in  a  state  of  chronic  strug- 
gle to  sustain  its  reputation,  the  other  scarcely  knowing  what  to  do 
with  its  revenue,  although  it  makes  a  very  large  hole  in  its  annual 
receipts  for  such  laudable  purposes  as  education.  Delaware  had, 
at  one  time,  a  geographical  importance,  of  which  the  construction 
of  the  Philadelphia  and  Baltimore  Railway  has  gone  far  to  deprive 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  99 

it.  Sitimtod  between  tlie  estuary  of  the  Delaware  and  tlie  head  of 
Chesapeake  Bay,  it  interposes,  at  one  point,  a  breadth  of  only  six- 
teen miles  between  them.  This  made  it  an  important  link  in  the 
then  direct  communication  with  the  South.  A  canal,  of  sufficient 
dimensions  to  admit  of  the  passag-e  of  steamers,  was  constructed 
from  Newcastle  to  the  Chesapeake,  by  means  of  which  an  unbro- 
ken steamboat  communication  was  opened  between  Philadelpliia 
and  Baltimore.  A  railway  has  since  been  laid  down  parallel  to 
this  canal,  many  persons  preferring  this  route  between  the  two  cities 
in  the  summer  time,  the  sail  from  Baltimore  to  French  town,  along 
the  head  of  Chesapeake  Bay  being  only  equalled  in  beauty  by  that, 
after  crossing  the  neck  of  land  by  railway,  from  Newcastle  to  Phi- 
ladelphia, by  the  Delaware. 

Though  few  in  number,  the  people  of  Delaware  are  not  wanting 
in  spirit  and  enterprise.  They  boast  of  a  foreign  trade,  and  do  "a 
good  stroke  of  business"  with  their  immediate  neighbours.  They 
manufacture  also  to  a  small  extent,  and  have  in  Newcastle  a  large  loco- 
motive establishment,  where  many  of  the  engines  used  throughout 
the  Union  are  fabricated.  On  the  Brandywine,  or  the  Brandy  and 
water,  as  it  is  sometimes  called,  are  some  of  the  largest  "flouring 
mills  "  in  the  United  States.  But  one  has  scarcely  time  to  reflect 
upon  the  manifold  elements  which  enter  into  the  sum-total  of  the 
importance  of  Delaware,  when  he  finds  himself  alongside  of  Wil- 
mington, its  capital.  There  is  a  refreshment-room  here  in  con- 
nexion with  the  station,  which  is  the  open  street;  and  on  my  ask- 
i'?g  for  a  cup  of  coffee,  I  was  presented  with  a  decoction  of  parched 
peas,  to  which,  being  amongst  the  acquired  tastes,  I  had  not  suffi- 
cient time  to  reconcile  myself.  Here,  however,  was  afforded  one 
undeniable  proof,  that  political  excitements  do  not  always  depend, 
for  their  extent,  upon  the  importance  of  the  interests  at  stake.  A 
political  meeting  had  been  held  that  day  in  town,  connected  with 
some  local  election,  and  the  refreshment-room  was  then  the  scene 
of  a  species  of  adjourned  meeting  of  some  of  those  who  had  attend- 
ed. The  noise  and  uproar  were  tremendous,  and  the  warmth  with 
which  the  merits  of  this,  that,  and  the  other  candidate  were  can- 
vassed, made  me  think  for  a  moment  that  the  interests  of  the  Union, 
if  not  those  of  foreign  states,  were  involved.  I  soon  discovered  that 
there  were  two  sorts  of  candidates,  the  "  winning  horses  "  and  the 
"gone  geese,"  the  majority  backing  the  former,  but  a  few  exhibit- 
ing an  obdurate  sympathy  for  the  more  questionable  form  of  ani- 
mal, and  that  too  when  it  was  obvious  from  the  epithet  applied  to 
them,  that  they  had  taken  their  departure  from  the  field.  Politics 
in  America  exhibit  every  where  the  same  agitated  aspect.  I  have 
seen  New  York  convulsed  with  an  electoral  contest,  and  Delaware 
shaken  to  its  litde  centre  with  the  same,  and  could  not  but  think  of 
the  story  of  the  fly  and  the  bull,  when  in  their  public  assemblies  I 


100         *  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

liave  heard  the  people  of  the  hitter  emphatically  assured  by  their 
orators,  that  the  eyes  of  the  world  were  upon  them. 

A  journey  by  railway  soutli  of  Philadelphia,  and,  indeed,  south 
of  the  Hudson,  has  many  things  about  it  that  are  disagreeable  to  the 
stranger.  It  is  then  that  he  is  brouirlit  in  close  contact  with  tobac- 
co-chewing, to  an  extent  that  is  positively  disgusting.  If  previously 
unaware  of  the  existence  of  this  depravity  of  taste,  he  might  fancy, 
seeing  a  number  of  men  with  their  respective  jaws  constantly  in 
motion,  that  they  belonged  to  the  race  of  animals  chewing  the  cud 
— with  the  expectoral  accompaniment  as  a  slight  moditication  of  the 
practice.  Nowhere  is  this  disgusting  habit  so  essentially  annoying, 
as  in  a  railway  carriage.  In  the  open  street  it  is  possible  to  avoid 
the  nuisance,  as  it  is  in  a  public  room,  such  as  a  bar-room,  by 
giving  a  wide  berth  to  the  spittoons;  but  in  a  railway  carriage  there 
is  no  escaping  it.  Think  of  being  cooped  up  in  a  small  compart- 
ment, with  no  vacant  space  but  the  narrow  aisle  in  the  centre,  with 
nine-and-hfty  distillers  of  tobacco-juice  around  you  !  The  constant 
spitting  which  takes  place  from  the  moment  that  the  passengers  take 
their  seats,  is  carried  on  to  so  formidable  an  extent,  that  scarcely 
five  minutes  elapse  before  the  floor  is  absolutely  moist  with  it.  I 
once  ventured  to  walk  from  one  end  of  the  carriage  to  the  other 
and  got  such  a  fright  from  the  many  perils  I  encountered,  that  I 
never  afterwards  subjected  myself  to  a  similar  risk.  On  leaving 
Wilmington  I  found  myself  seated  beside  a  man  who  carried  on  his 
knee  what  appeared  to  be,  from  the  care  he  took  of  it,  a  large  pic- 
ture, framed  and  glazed,  and  which  was  enveloped  for  protection  in 
some  stout  canvass  ;  it  not  only  covered  his  own  knees, but  partially 
mine  also.  I  observed  him  cram  his  mouth  full  of  tobacco  when  I 
took  my  seat,  and  we  had  been  but  a  few  minutes  together,  when 
he  turned  around  to  me  and  said — 

"  Stranger,  will  you  let  me  spit?" 

I  told  him  that  I  could  have  no  objection  to  his  so  indulging  himself, 
so  long  as  he  did  not  spit  on  me. 

"That's  just,"  said  he,  "what  I  didn't  ambition  to  do  :  but  you 
see,  with  this  'ere  thing  that  I'm  a  carryin',  unless  you  spread  out 
your  feet  a  bit,  I  have  no  place  to  do  it  in." 

"If  that's  all,"  I  replied,  "I'll  exceed  your  wishes  by  giving  you 
the  whole  place  to  yourself;"  whereupon  I  left  him,  and  sought 
the  platform,  preferring  the  cold,  but  fresh  air,  to  the  deleterious 
fumes  within  the  car,  and  to  having  my  neighbour  coolly  deposit 
his  filthy  expectorations  between  my  knees. 

Both  in  New  England  and  in  New  York  tobacco-chewing  is 
a  habit  by  far  too  prevalent;  but  to  the  stranger,  this  plague  in 
American  life  only  begins  to  show  itself  in  its  detestable  universality 
after  he  has  crossed  the  Hudson,  on  his  way  to  the  South.  A 
New  York  railway  carriage  is  a  clean  ailair,  as  compared  with  one 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  *        lOi 

on  the  line  between  Philadelphia  and  Baltimore,  or,  more  particu- 
larly, between  the  latter  and  the  termination  of  railway  travellino- 
in  North  Carolina.  The  floor  is  regularly  incrusted  with  its  daily 
succession  of  abominable  deposits ;  so  much  so,  that  one  might 
almost  smoke  a  pipe  from  its  scrapings.  It  too  frequently  happens, 
also,  that  the  seats,  the  sides  of  the  car,  the  window  hangings, 
where  there  are  any,  and  sometimes  the  windows  themselves,  are 
stained  with  this  pestiferous  decoction.  I  was  once  on  my  way 
from  Baltimore  to  Washington,  when  two  men  got  in  at  the  half-way 
station,  somewhat  the  worse  for  liquor,  and  the  first  thing  that  one 
of  them  did  on  seating  himself,  was  to  take  out  his  quid,  and  trace 
his  initials  with  it  upon  the  window,  surrounding  them  afterwards 
with  a  framework  of  flourishes ;  conduct  which  seemed  to  excite 
but  little  disgust,  many  near  him  laughing,  but  only  regarding  it  as 
one  of  the  stupid  things  that  men  "  a  little  sprung"  would  sometimes 
do. 

Let  it  not  be  said  that  this  is  only  joining  in  a  hackneyed  cry,  or 
falling  readily  in  with  a  common  prejudice.  I  confidently  appeal  to 
every  candid  American  who  has  ever  travelled  southward,  for  a  corro- 
boration of  my  assertion,  that  it  is  scarcely  possible  to  exaggerate  the 
extent  to  which  this  disgusting  habit  is  carried  in  the  southern  and 
middle  States,  but  particularly  the  former.  Many  travellers  how- 
ever have,  unwittingly  I  dare  say,  conveyed  a  false  impression, 
when  they  have  left  their  readers  to  suppose  that  it  is  a  habit  indis- 
criminately practised  under  all  circumstances.  It  has  not  been 
permitted  to  invade  the  sanctuary  of  private  society.  Men  may 
chew  in  the  streets,  in  bar-rooms,  on  board  steamboats,  in  railway 
cars,  in  short  in  all  public  places,  not  even  excepting  the  halls  of 
legislation,  but  I  never  yet  saw  any  one,  in  the  presence  of  ladies, 
violate  M'ith  the  practice  the  decorum  of  a  drawing  room.  But 
little  do  the  ladies  know  the  agony  to  which  their  admirers  some- 
times subject  themselves  by  this  bit  of  gallant  self-denial.  "Oh! 
for  a  chew;"  whispered  on  one  occasion  under  these  circum- 
stances, into  my  ear,  a  young  man,  in  tones  indicative  of  the  deep- 
est distress.  I  advised  him,  if  he  were  in  any  pain,  to  step  into  the 
next  room  and  take  one;  but  he  shook  his  head  despondingly,  say- 
ing, that  "they  (the  ladies)  would  smell  it  on  my  breath."  About 
an  hour  afterwards  I  left  with  him,  and  his  first  exclamation  on 
gaining  the  street  was,  "I  can  now  use  my  box."  To  say  that 
gentlemen  chew  in  society  in  America,  is  quite  as  great  a  calumny 
as  to  say  that  the  ladies  smoke ;  but  that,  with  this  exception,  Ame- 
rica is  grinding  at  tobacco  from  morning  to  night,  is  what  no  Ame- 
rican will  dispute;  and  there  are  many  in  the  United  States  in  whom 
the  habit  excites  as  much  disgust  as  it  can  do  in  any  European. 

It  was  between  Philadelphia  and  Baltimore  that  I  first  witnessed 
for  myself  the  extent  to  which  the  Anglo  Americans  carry  their 

9- 


102  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

anlipathy  to  the  coloured  race.  At  one  end  of  the  car  in  which  I 
was  seated  sat  a  young  man,  verv  respectably  dressed,  but  who  bore 
in  his  countenance  those  traces,  almost  indelible,  which,  long  alter 
every  symptom  of  the  colour  has  vanished,  bespeak  the  presence  of 
African  blood  in  the  veins.  The  quantity  which  he  possessed,  could 
not  have  been  more  than  12 1  per  cent,  of  his  whole  blood,  tinging 
his  skin  with  a  shade,  just  visible,  and  no  more.  If  his  face  was  not 
as  white,  it  was,  at  all  events,  cleaner  than  those  of  many  around  him. 
I  observed  that  he  became  very  uneasy  every  time  the  conductor 
came  into  the  car,  eyeing  him  with  timid  glances,  as  if  in  fear  of 
him.  Divining  the  cause  of  this  conduct,  I  determined  to  watch  the 
issue,  which  was  not  long  delayed.  By-and-by,  the  conductor 
entered  the  car  again,  and,  as  if  he  had  come  for  the  purpose, 
walked  straight  up  to  the  poor  wretch  in  question,  and  without  deign- 
ing to  speak  to  him  ordered  him  out  with  a  wave  of  his  finger.  The 
blood  in  a  moment  mounted  to  his  temples,  and  suffused  his  whole 
face ;  but  resistance  was  vain ;  and  with  a  hanging  head,  and  broken- 
hearted look,  he  left  the  carriage.  He  was  not  a  slave ;  but  not  a 
soul  remonstrated,  not  a  whisper  was  heard  in  his  behalf.  The 
silence  of  all  indicated  their  approval  of  this  petty  manifestation  of 
the  tyranny  of  blood.  These  bold  defenders  of  "life,  liberty,  and 
the  pursuit  of  happiness,"  these  chivalrous  assertors  of  the  Decla- 
ration of  Independence,  looked  with  utter  indifTerence  on  diis  prac- 
tical violation    of  the  "riijhts  of  man." 

"Sarved  the  nigger  right,"  said  a  youngster  scarcely  twenty, 
at  the  other  end  of  the  car,  and  those  immediately  around  him 
laughed  at  the  remark. 

"He'll  know  his  place  better  the  next  time,  the  b y  jnon- 

grel!"  said  another;  and  the  laugh  was  repeated. 

Curious  to  know  what  had  been  done  with  him,  I  sought  the 
conductor,  whom  I  found  returning  from  the  front  of  the  train. 

"Blow  me,"  said  he,  "if  you  can't  reg'late  a  thousand  of  your 
out-and-out  onpretendin'  niggers  much  more  easier  than  one  of 
these  composition  gentry:  they  think  because  they  have  got  a  litde 
whitewash  on  their  ugly  mugs,  that  they're  the  real  china,  and  no 
mistake." 

"But  where  have  you  put  him?"  I  asked;  "he  surely  can't  ride 
on  the  engine?" 

"Put  him? — in  the  nigger  crib,  to  be  sure,  where  he  should  be," 
said  he. 

'Can  I  see  it?"  I  inquired. 

"You  can,  if  you  have  a  taste  that  way,"  he  replied;  "keep  on 
ahead,  straight  through  the  baggage  van,  and  you'll  see  them  all 
alive." 

I  did  as  directed,  until  at  lengtli  I  passed  through  the  van  in 
which  the  luggage  was  stowed,  and  between  which  and  the  tender 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  10 

was  a  cold,  comfortless-looking  box  with  a  few  hard,  uncovered  seats, 
Mhich  were  occupied  by  about  a  dozen  negroes.  There  they  were 
by  tiiemselves,  of  both  sexes,  and  of  almost  all  ages,  some  of  them 
silent  and  sullen,  others  jabbering  like  so  many  monkeys,  and  laiigh- 
inor  immoderately — but  all  looking  equally  stolid  when  their  features 
were  at  rest.  One  of  them,  a  woman,  had  a  child  in  her  arms, 
which  she  pressed  close  to  her  breast  to  keep  it  warm;  for  though 
the  day  was  bitter  cold,  there  was  no  stove  in  the  comfortless  "crib." 
Here  I  found  the  poor  outcast  who  had  so  excited  my  sympathies; 
he  was  seated  by  himself  in  a  corner,  with  a  gloomy  and  vengeful 
expression,  and  regarded  me  with  a  scowl,  as  if  I  had  been  a  willing 
party  to  his  humiliation.  His  entrance  had  afforded  considerable 
merriment  to  the  negroes,  who  raliier  rejoiced,  than  otherwise,  at 
the  treatment  he  had  received.  Nothing  can  be  more  deplora!)le 
than  the  position,  or  rather  the  un-position,  of  the  mixed  race  in 
America.  Between  the  negro  and  the  white  man  there  is  an  im- 
passable gulf,  each  having  his  determinate  place;  but  the  mulatto,  or 
rather  the  mixed  race  beyond  the  mulatto  in  the  quantity  of  white 
blood,  are  buffeted  between  the  two;  for  whilst  tliey  are  not  good 
enough  company  for  the  wliite  man,  they  elicit  no  sympathy  from 
the  black,  who  charges  them  with  alTecting  to  be  too  good  company 
for  him.  It  is  but  justice,  however,  here  to  say,  that  I  afterwards 
traversed  the  whole  State  of  New  York  in  a  railway  carriage,  in 
which  were  seated  a  respectable  negro  and  his  wife,  neither  of  whom 
was  molested,  although  the  carriage  was  crowded,  during  the  jour- 
ney. 

This  feeling  the  Americans,  and  more  particularly  the  southerners, 
carry  with  them  on  their  travels.  It  is  but  a  short  time  ago  since 
the  captain  of  a  British  steamboat,  plying  on  Lake  Ontario,  unwar- 
rantably lent  himself  to  this  prejudice  in  favour  of  a  party  of  Virgi- 
nians, who  had  taken  passage  with  him  from  Toronto  to  Kingston. 
There  was  a  young  coloured  man  on  board,  highly  educated,  and 
well  known  to  the  white  as  to  the  negro  population  of  the  province, 
who  had  taken  a  cabin  berth,  paid  his  fare,  and  received  a  receipt 
for  the  money.  At  dinner,  he  appeared  near  the  foot  of  the  table, 
the  party  in  question  being  seated  at  the  top.  Seeing  him,  they 
rose  and  were  about  to  leave  the  cabin,  when  the  captain  stopped 
them;  they  informed  him  that  they  could  not  sit  at  table  with  a  black 
man;  to  which  the  captain  most  improperly  replied,  that  they  need 
not  leave,  as  he  would  order  him  away.  But  he  was  not  to  he  or- 
dered away — maintaining  his  right  to  sit  there  with  the  best  of  them 
— whereupon  the  captain  took  hold  of  him  by  the  collar,  and  threat- 
ened force.  Affdinst  this  conduct  the  rest  of  the  passengers  loudly 
remonstrated;  but  the  young  man,  finding  himself  actually  assaulted, 
rose,  and  left  the  table.  The  Virginians,  thereupon,  dined  in  peace. 
But,  on  arriving  at  Kingston,  the    captain  was  apprehended  on   a 


104  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

warrant  for  tlie  assault,  and  had  to  pay  a  heavy  fine  for  his  officious- 
ness, — the  press  of  llie  province  being-  nnariiinous  in  its  condemna- 
tion of  liis  conduct,  and  his  command  being  only  continued  to  him  oa 
condition  of  his  not  ollending  in  a  similar  manner  in  future. 

But  whilst  I  have  been  thus  digressing,  the  train  has  been  speeding 
at  the  rate  of  twenty  miles  an  hour,  over  a  very  fertile  and  slighUy 
undulating  country,  and  has  at  length  arrived  at  the  left  bank  of  the 
Susquehanna.  II ere  the  river,  before  entering  the  Chesapeake, 
expands  into  a  broad  and  imposing  estuary,  across  which  the  pas- 
sengers are  conveyed  by  steamboat,  the  upper  deck  of  which  is  so 
contrived,  that  the  baggage  vans  can  be  wheeled  upon  it,  and  wheeled 
ofl' again,  to  join  the  train  at  the  other  side,  without  disturbing  their 
contents.  The  landing  place,  on  the  southern  bank,  is  at  the  town 
of  Havre  de  Grace,  which  was  a  witness  to  some  of  the  naval  evolu- 
tions of  the  late  war.  It  is  very  prettily  situated  on  a  high  sloping 
bank,  and  commands  a  noble  prospect,  both  of  land  and  water. 
During  the  proper  season,  this  estuary  is  visited  by  myriads  of  can- 
vasvs-bark  ducks,  compared  to  which,  for  flavour  and  delicacy,  the 
Avild  duck  of  Europe  is  not  worth  a  thought.  1  have  seen  the  Sus- 
quehanna blackened  with  them  for  miles,  as  also  the  Gunpowder 
Creek,  the  estuary  of  which  is  a  little  further  on,  and  being  shallow 
is  crossed  by  a  long  low  bridge,  built  upon  piles,  of  sufficient  width 
to  receive  a  single  line  of  rails. 

Tliere  are  i'ew  towns  in  America  but  present  some  monuments  of 
gigantic  but  unfortunate  speculation.  Baltimore  is  no  exception,  for 
on  entering  it  from  the  north,  you  pass  through  the  suburb  of  Canton, 
a  melancholy  instance  of  misguided  enterprise.  The  streets  are  all 
nicely  laid  out,  paved,  and  macadamized;  you  have  every  thing  there 
to  make  a  fine  town  but  the  houses.  A  few  have  been  built,  appa- 
rendy  as  decoy  ducks  to  otiiers,  but  to  no  purpose.  An  American 
Canton  would  not  rise  on  the  banks  of  the  Patapsco,  and  "Canton 
lots"  rapidly  sunk  in  the  market. 

It  liad  never  been  my  lot  to  encounter  such  a  hubbub  as  saluted 
us  on  entering  the  station  in  Baltimore:  it  was  like  Pandemonium 
let  loose.  There  was  not  an  hotel  in  town  but  was  represented  by 
one  or  two  negroes,  who  did  the  touting  for  it,  each  havinof  the 
name  of  his  boniface  displayed  on  a  band  which  surrounded  his  hat. 

"  Barnum's,  gen'lemen  —  Barnum's  —  now  for  Barnum's — only 
house  in  town — rest  all  sham — skin  but  no  'possum — yhaw,  yhaw. 
Barinim's,  Barnum's!" 

"Cause  Eagle  eaten  all  de  'possum  up,  and  left  nufTin  but  de 
skin — de  Eagle's  de  house,  gen'lemen — hurra  for  de  Eagle!"  This 
was  said  by  another. 

"(letout,  you  brack  man,"  said  the  representative  of  Barnum's, 
himself  the  blacker  of  the  two;  "tell  your  massa  to  send  a  gen'ie- 
man  next  time,  will  you  — it's  lowcrin'  to  de  profession  to  liab  you 
here — get  out. — P>urmim's,  gen'lemiMi— Pjarnum's!" 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  105 

TTaving  been  rccoinraended  to  Barnum's,  I  consigned  myself  to 
his  lieutenant,  who  told  tne  that  I  had  some  "'scrimination"  in  listen- 
ing to  him,  instead  of  to  that  "onmannerly  and  dispectful  nigger," 
his  rival  of  the  Eagle.  I  found  the  hotel  all  that  it  had  been  de- 
scribed to  be,  being  in  fact  one  of  the  most  admirably  managed 
establishments  of  the  kind  on  the  continent. 

Baltimore  is  most  advantageously  situated,  a  few  miles  above  the 
entrance  of  the  Patapsco  into  Chesapeake  Bay.  It  has  an  excellent 
harbour,  which  is  constantly  crowded  with  shipping,  the  Baltimore 
clipper,  "built  to  beat  every  thing  that  carries  rags,"  being  conspi- 
cuous amongst  the  rest.  The  foreign  trade  of  Baltimore  is  large, 
and  its  communication  with  the  interior  great  and  daily  increasing,— 
the  Baltimore  and  Ohio  railway  opening  up  a  direct  and  rapid  com- 
munication between  it  and  the  great  West.  The  portion  of  the  town 
which  adjoins  the  harbour  is  dirty  and  unattractive  enough,  but  as 
you  recede  from  the  wharves,  and  gain  more  elevated  ground,  its 
aspect  improves  very  much,  the  streets  being  spacious,  and  regularly 
laid  out — well  paved,  and  tastefully  built.  Baltimore-street,  its  prin- 
cipal thoroughfare,  is  one  of  the  finest  streets  in  the  Union. 

In  one  respect,  Baltimore  enjoys  a  very  enviable,  in  another  a 
very  invidious,  reputation.  It  is  said  to  be  full  of  pretty  women,  a 
"Baltimore  beauty"  being  a  sort  of  proverbial  expression.  I  can 
say,  from  personal  observation,  that,  in  so  large  a  population,  I  never 
saw  so  small  a  proportion  of  unattractive  faces.  Indeed,  this  cha- 
racteristic of  Baltimore  extends  more  or  less  to  the  whole  state  of 
Maryland.  The  women  excel  in  figure  as  well  as  in  face,  the  for- 
mer being  more  rounded  than  in  other  parts  of  the  Union,  New 
England  excepted;  but  it  has  a  springiness  and  flexibility  about  it, 
to  which  that  of  the  beauty  of  the  north-east  is  a  stranger.  If  it 
contains  a  greater  number  of  beauties,  it  also  gets  credit  for  contain- 
ing a  greater  number  of  blackguards,  for  its  population,  than  any  other 
city  in  the  Union.  The  Mexican  war  has  cleared  many  of  them  off, 
since  the  breaking  out  of  which,  I  understand  that  the  police  force 
of  the  town  has  been  materially  reduced. 

Baltimore  is  the  chief  seat  of  Catholicism  in  the  United  States. 
It  contains  a  large  cathedral,  built,  at  great  cost,  plain  enough  ex- 
ternally, but  very  sumptuously  adorned  in  the  interior.  The  State 
has,  to  some  extent,  retained  the  Catholic  character  which  marked 
its  early  settlement.  The  original  settlers  were  Catholics,  and  were 
amongst  the  first  of  the  colonists  to  promulgate  the  principle  of  re- 
ligious toleration;  for  which  liberality  they  were  afterwards  nobly 
repaid  by  disabilities  imposed  upon  them  by  their  Protestant  bre- 
thren, as  soon  as  they  obtained  the  ascendency. 

Baltimore  is  affectedly  called  the  "monumental  city."  Its  monu- 
ments consist  of  a  pillar,  raised  to  General  Washington,  of  a  piece 
with  Nelson's  column  in  Trafalgar  Square;  and  a  small  erection, 


106  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

the  body  of  which,  resting  upon  a  low  pedestal,  represents  the 
"bundle  of  sticks,"  typi(;al  of  union  in  the  f)ible,  raised  to  the  me- 
mory of  some  local  patriots,  who  did  good  service  to  their  country 
in  the  late  war. 

It  was  here  that,  like  most  European  travellers  on  the  same  route, 
I  found  myself,  for  the  first  time,  waited  upon  by  slaves.  It  is  no 
mawkish  sentiment,  but  a  genuine  feeling  of  repugnance,  with  which 
an  Englishman  submits,  for  the  first  time,  to  the  good  offices  of  un- 
rewarded service.  A  friend  from  ('anada  was  travellinor  with  me, 
who  felt  in  unison  with  myself.  The  poor  creatures  themselves 
seemed  to  suspect  our  sympathy,  and  waited  upon  us  with  an  alac- 
rity which  they  did  not  show  in  attending  to  our  fellow  passengers. 
On  leaving,  we  gave  each  a  small  gratuity,  which  they  received 
with  a  mixture  of  wonder  and  timidity.  It  may  be  to  my  shame 
that  I  confess  it,  but  the  truth  is,  that  1  soon  became  accustomed  to 
this  order  of  things,  and  received  the  services  of  a  slave  with  the 
same  indifference  as  if  they  had  been  those  of  a  hired  servant.  Cus- 
tom is,  generally  speaking,  more  than  a  match  for  the  finest  sensi- 
bilities. 

I  mentioned  this  circumstance  once  to  a  Virginian  lady,  resident 
in  Washington.  Brought  up  as  she  was,  from  the  very  cradle,  in 
the  midst  of  slaves,  it  was,  she  said,  with  an  awkward  feeling  that 
she  received,  for  the  first  time,  the  services  of  a  white  waiting- woman 
— yielding  sometimes  to  an  impulse  which  led  her  to  apologize  for 
troubling  her;  and  every  now  and  then  detecting  herself  calling  her 
"Miss."  How  much,  after  all,  are  we,  even  in  our  best  feelings, 
the  creatures  of  circumstance! 

I  left  Baltimore,  by  the  late  night-train  for  Washington.  For 
two-thirds  of  the  way,  we  went  on  smoothly  enough;  but  when 
within  about  ten  miles  of  Washington,  a  violent  jerk  to  the  whole 
train  apprized  us  that  we  had  run  against  something,  not,  however, 
sufficiently  formidable  to  bring  us  to  a  sudden  halt,  or  to  dislodge  us 
from  the  line.  The  engine-driver  gradually  slackened  speed,  and 
on  stopping  the  train,  we  discovered  that  we  had  run  against  a  cow, 
which  had  been  lying  on  the  line. 

"Sure  on't,"  said  the  driver,  as  soon  as  he  had  satisfied  his  curio- 
sity. 

"  You  seem  familiar  with  such  accidents,"  I  observed;  "are  they 
frequent?" 

"Now  and  then  of  a  night,"  said  he,  "we  do  run  agin  somethin' 
of  the  kind,  but  they  gin'rally  manage  to  get  the  worst  on't." 

"But  do  they  never  throw  you  orilhe  rail?"  I  inquired. 

"'J^hey  seem  to  take  a  pleasure  in  doin'  it,  when  they  find  us 
without  the  'cow-kelcher,' "  he  replied. 

On  walking  to  the  front  of  the  engine,  I  discovered  what  the 
"cow-ketcher"  was.     Utterly  unprotected,  as  American  railways  are, 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  107 

either  by  fences  or  police,  the  presence  of  this  device  is  a  very  ne- 
cessary precaution  in  the  case  of  all  night-trains.  It  is  appended  to 
the  front  of  the  locomotive,  and  consists  of  a  strong  iron  grating, 
turned  up  a  little  at  the  projecting  points,  which  is  made  to  trail 
along  the  line  a  few  inches  from  the  rails.  It  is  by  no  means  un- 
common, on  arriving  at  a  station,  to  find  a  sheep  or  a  hog  dead  or 
dying  in  it.  A  cow  or  a  horse  is  too  formidable  an  obstacle  to  be 
run  against  witiiout  being  observed.  On  this  occasion,  the  unfortu- 
nate cow  was  lifted  off  the  rail,  on  which  it  had  been  lying,  but  its 
body  was  frightfully  lacerated  by  the  process. 

"I  can  stand  a  hog,  but  them  'ere  cows  are  the  d — 1  to  pay," 
said  the  stoker,  as  he  proceeded,  with  the  help  of  some  others',  to 
drag  the  carcass  ofl"  the  machine,  and  deposit  it  by  the  side  of  the 
line. 

*' Might  they  not  as  well  take  it  into  Washington  now?"  I  ob- 
served to  one  of  the  by-standers. 

"I  suppose  they  would,"  said  he,  "but  that  they  want  to  leave 
room  for  the  next;''  a  remark  which  enabled  me  certainly  to  resume 
my  place,  with  a  very  comfortable  feeling  of  security. 

It  was  two  in  the  morning  ere  we  reached  Washington.  The 
night  was  cloudy  and  dark,  and  as  we  approached  the  town,  the 
outline  of  the  Capitol  was  barely  discernible  on  our  left,  looming  up 
against  the  dull  heavy  sky.  A  more  miserable  station  than°  we 
weie  ushered  into  can  scarcely  be  conceived.  We  were  but  few 
passengers,  and  there  we  stood  shivering  by  the  light  of  one  wretched 
lamp,  upon  the  cold  moist  platform,  whilst  our  baffffage  was  beino- 
distributed.  I  turned  and  looked  at  two  of  my  fellow-unfortunates 
who  stood  by  me.  Their  faces  were  familiar  to  me,  but  seen  then 
under  circumstances  how  difl^erent  from  those  in  which  I  had  last 
witnessed  them,  when,  amid  the  glare  of  footlights  and  all  the  scenic 
trickery  of  the  stage,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Charles  Kean  acted  their  parts 
with  eclat  before  a  brilliant  London  audience!  They  were  now  iu 
America,  on  their  way  south,  in  fulfilment  of  an  engagement. 

There  was  but  one  hotel  in  which  room  was  to  be  had,  and  that 
was  at  the  other  end  of  the  town.  1  was  conveyed  to  it  in  a  car- 
riage, which  seemed  to  traverse  a  dark  avenue,  in  which  neither  a 
light  nor  a  house  was  visible.  Thinking  that  he  had  taken  a  circui- 
tous way  by  the  outskirts,  I  was  surprised  when  the  driver  told  me 
that  we  had  "come  right  through  the  town,"  his  course  having  been 
"straight  down  Pennsylvania-avenue,"  from  the  station.  I  conceived 
a  gloomy  idea  of  Washington  from  the  nocturnal  aspect,  or  rather 
want  of  aspect,  of  its  main  thoroughfare.  In  the  darkness  I  could 
see  no  trace  whatever  of  a  town,  the  hotel  in  which  I  was  to  take 
up  my  quarters,  having  more  the  appearance  of  a  road-side  inn  than 
any  thing  else.  The  cold  wintry  wind  whistled  through  the  high  leaf- 
less trees,  with  which  it  was  flanked,  and  the  solitary  lamp  which 


lOS  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

burned  over  the  door,  only  ni;ule  darkness  visible,  there  being  no 
trace  of  another  habitation  to  be  seen  on  any  side. 

I  got  a  fire  lighted  in  my  room,  and  went  immediately  to  bed.  I 
slept  uncomfortably,  and  awoke  about  ten  next  morning,  feverish 
and  unrcfresiied.  Before  recovering  complete  consciousness,  I  lay 
for  some  time  in  a  state  of  semi-stupor,  with  my  eyes  half  open, 
and  rivetted  upon  what  appeared  to  me  to  be  some  huge  glowing 
object,  which  pained  them,  but  which,  at  the  same  time  had  such 
a  fascination  about  it  as  kept  my  look  fixed  upon  it.  I  involunta- 
rily connected  it  with  the  uneasy  state  in  which  I  felt  my  whole 
frame  to  be.  It  seemed  as  if  the  whole  of  the  sun's  li^ht  w^as  beino; 
concentrated  by  a  gigantic  lens,  and  thrown  thus  intensified  upon 
my  brain.  On  my  becoming  fairly  awake,  it  turned  out  to  be  nei- 
ther more  nor  less  than  the  anthracite  fire,  Avhich  burnt  smokeless 
and  flameless  in  my  grate,  and  which  looked  like  one  mass  of  iron 
glowing  at  a  white  heat.  For  seven  hours  it  had  been  thus  steadily 
burning,  apparently  without  diminution.  The  heat  which  it  threw^ 
out  was  so  intense  and  so  dry,  that  my  skin,  under  its  influence, 
seemed  to  crackle  like  parchment.  This  I  afterwards  found  to  be 
the  great  objection  to  anthracite  coal  in  its  application  to  domestic 
purposes.  Admirably  adapted  for  smelting,  it  throws  but  an  un- 
wholesome heat  into  a  room,  drying  up  all  the  juices  in  the  body, 
warping  every  piece  of  furniture  Avithin  its  reach,  and  finding  some 
moisture  to  extract  even  from  the  best  seasoned  timber.  It  requires 
a  peculiar  construction  of  grate  to  burn  well  in;  and  unless  pro- 
vided in  this  w^ay  to  its  taste,  will  soon  eat  up  the  bars  of  an  ordi- 
nary one.  It  has  a  slaty  uninflammable  appearance,  but  is  never- 
theless highly  combustible,  soon  lighting,  and  burning  for  a  long 
time.  Its  want  of  flame  and  smoke  would  send  gladness  to  the 
heart  of  Mr.  Mackinnon. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  CAPITAL  AND  THE  CAPITOL. 

Bird's-eye  Viewof  Washington. — The  Plan  and  theExecution. — Stroll  through 
theTown.— Public  Buildings.— The  City  Hall.— The  Post-Oflice.— The  Trea- 
sury.— The  Executive  Mansion  and  its  adjuncts. — The  Capitol. — A  strong 
Contrast. 

To  convey  to  the  mind  of  the  reader  any  thing  like  an  adequate 
idea  of  Washington,  is  no  easy  task.  It  so  violates  one's  precon- 
ceived notions  of  a  capital,  and  is,  in  its  general  features,  so  much 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  109 

al  variance  with  the  estimate  which  one  forms  of  the  metropolitan 
proprieties,  that  it  is  difficult,  in  dealing  with  it  as  a  capital,  to  avoid 
caricaturing  a  respectable  country  town.  It  is  as  unique  in  its  phy- 
sical character  as  it  is  in  its  political  position,  answering  all  its  pur- 
poses, yet  at  the  same  time  falling  far  short  of  its  expectations. 

Washington  presents  itself  in  two  distinct  aspects,  one  comprisino- 
that  which  it  is,  and  the  other  that  which  it  was  to  be.  The  dif- 
ference between  the  intention  and  the  reality  is  great  indeed,  and 
can  only  be  appreciated  by  viewing  the  city  from  some  point,  from 
which  both  design  and  execution  can  be  estimated  together.  The 
point  in  every  way  most  favourable  in  this  respect,  is  the  dome  of 
the  Capitol;  and,  with  the  reader's  consent,  we  will  ascend  it  to- 
gether, and  take  a  bird's-eye  view  of  Washington. 

The  view  from  this  elevated  point  is  extensive,  and  in  some  re- 
spects pleasantly  varied.  The  whole  of  the  district  of  Columbia  is 
within  the  range  of  your  vision,  with  a  considerable  expanse  of  the 
circumjacent  States  of  Maryland  and  Virginia.  You  have  water, 
town,  and  field  at  your  feet,  with  long  stretches  of  forest  beyond,  and 
hazy  wooded  slopes  in  the  distance. 

Both  the  site  and  the  plan  of  Washington  are  beneath  you,  as  if  de- 
lineated on  a  gigantic  map.  The  ground  upon  which  the  city  is 
laid  out  is  on  the  north  bank  of  the  Potomac,  at  the  head  of  tide- 
water, and  about  120  miles  from  Chesapeake  Bay.  On  the  noble 
estuary  of  that  river  the  southern  side  of  the  city  rests,  being  flanked 
on  the  eastern  side  by  a  broad  and  deep  creek,  called  the  East 
Branch.  In  a  northern  or  western  direction,  there  are  no  particular 
marks  to  designate  its  limits.  If  the  design  of  its  founders  was  too 
grand  for  realization,  it  was  because  of  its  being  incommensurate 
with  the  wants  of  the  locality.  In  a  commercial  point  of  view  it  is 
a  superfluity,  and  politically  and  socially  speaking,  it  is  not  that 
powerful  magnet  v/hich,  like  the  centralizing  capitals  of  the  old 
world,  can  draw  to  itself  the  wealth  and  fashion  of  the  country.  In 
that  on  which  they  chiefly  relied  for  its  future  greatness,  its  project- 
ors committed  a  capital  blunder.  There  are  too  many  social  and 
political  centres  in  the  United  States  for  the  presence  of  the  federal 
government  to  command  at  Washington  a  monopoly  of  the  wealth, 
the  talent,  and  the  fashion  of  the  country;  too  many  foci  of  com- 
mercial action  around  it,  to  admit  of  the  forced  growth  of  a  large 
community,  in  a  country  where  such  communities  can  only  as  it 
were  spontaneously  arise. 

The  Capitol  was  very  appropriately  selected  as  the  centre  of  the 
whole  plan.  From  it  was  to  radiate  magnificent  avenues,  of  inde- 
finite length  in  some  directions,  and  of  an  almost  fabulous  width  in 
all.  Having  secured  this  great  frame- work,  it  was  easy  to  fill  up 
the  rest  of  the  diagram.  In  these  avenues  all  the  side  streets  were 
to  begin  and  terminate;  the  whole  being  conceived  pretty  much  on 
VOL.  I.  — 10 


110  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

the  plan  of  an  out-door  spider's  web,  with  its  beautiful  radiations  and 
intervening  parallels.  Some  of  these  avenues  are  laid  out  and  can 
be  traced,  from  a  variety  of  marks,  by  the  eye,  others  having,  as 
yet,  no  definite  existence  but  in  the  intellect  of  the  surveyor.  The 
avenues,  being  designed  as  the  great  thoroughfares,  were  to  be  called 
after  the  ditierent  States  of  the  Union, — a  very  appropriate  start- 
ing point  for  the  nomenclature  of  the  capital, — I  he  same  idea  beino- 
carried  out  in  the  navy,  the  different  States  giving  their  names  to 
the  ships  of  the  line.  From  the  direction  of  the  East  Branch  to 
Georgetown,  one  avenue  was  laid  out,  extending  for  about  three 
miles,  broken  only  in  two  places  by  the  grounds  of  the  Capitol  and 
those  of  the  President's  house.  This  is  in  the  main  line  of  the  town, 
and  nearly  one-half  of  it  is  covered  with  grass. 

Such  being  the  plan  of  Washington,  what  has  been  the  execution? 
The  main  body  of  the  town  lies  to  the  west  of  the  Capitol,  on  low 
ground,  completely  overlooked  by  the  elevated  plateau,  on  the  slope 
of  which  that  pile  is  built.  The  basis  of  this  part  of  the  town  is 
Pennsylvania-avenue,  running  almost  from  your  feet,  a  broad  straight 
course  for  a  full  mile,  until  it  terminates  in  the  grounds  of  the  Pre- 
sident's house,  built  upon  a  similar  though  a  less  elevation  than  the 
Capitol.  On  the  north  this  avenue  is  flanked  by  a  low  ridge,  which 
the  city  completely  covers,  streets  running  along  it  parallel  to  the 
avenue,  and  others  intersectino;  them  at  right  angles.  In  this  di- 
rection,  and  in  this  only,  has  the  city  any  thing  like  a  town  look 
about  it.  In  every  other  direction,  you  have  nothing  but  incipient 
country  villages,  with  here  and  there  a  few  scattered  houses  of  wood 
or  brick,  as  the  case  may  be,  and  ever  and  anon  a  street  just  beguu 
and  then  stopped,  as  if  it  were  afraid  to  proceed  any  further  into 
the  wilderness.  Taking  a  rapid  glance  at  the  whole,  plan  and  exe- 
cution considered,  it  reminds  one  of  an  unfinished  piece  of  lady's 
needlework,  with  a  patch  here  and  there  resting  upon  the  canvass, 
the  whole  enabling  one  to  form  an  idea,  and  no  more,  of  the  general 
design.  Let  us  now  descend,  and  take  a  short  stroll  through  the 
town. 

We  emerge  from  the  grounds  of  the  Capitol  upon  Pennsylvania- 
avenue,  which  originally  consisted  of  two  rows  of  houses  and  four 
rows  of  trees.  The  latter  are  now  reduced  to  two,  which,  when 
the  trees  have  attained  their  growth,  Avill  throw  a  grateful  shade 
upon  the  thoroughfare.  The  first  feature  about  the  avenue  that 
strikes  you,  is  its  amazing  width.  The  houses  visible  on  the  oppo- 
site side,  are  three  hundred  feet  distant  from  you,  enough  to  de- 
stroy all  community  of  interest  and  feeling  between  them,  if  houses 
had  either  one  or  the  other.  There  seems,  in  fact,  to  be  little  or 
no  bond  of  union  between  them ;  and  instead  of  looking  like  the  two 
sides  of  one  and  the  same  street,  they  seem  as  if  they  were  each  a 
side  of  two  different  streets.     The  mistake  of  this  prodigality  of 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  Hi 

surface  was  discovered  too  late  to  be  remedied.  In  the  first  place, 
it  destroys  the  symmetry  of  the  street;  for,  to  be  well-proportioned, 
the  houses  on  either  side  should  rise  to  a  height  of  twenty  stories  at 
least,  whereas  they  are,  generally  speaking,  only  three.  In  the  next 
place,  the  cost  of  keeping  it  in  order  is  ruinous;  and  as  Pennsylvania- 
avenue  is  the  Broadway  of  Washington,  all  the  other  streets  are 
beggared  for  the  sake  of  the  pet.  To  pave  it  was  like  attempting  to 
pave  a  field — a  circumstance  to  which  is  attributable  the  fltct,  that 
the  rest  of  the  streets,  with  the  exception  of  their  broad  ample  brick 
footways,  are  left  mipaved.  In  wet  weather,  to  cross  any  of  them, 
even  Pennsylvania-avenue,  is  a  hazardous  matter.  Nobody  ever 
crosses  them  for  pleasure.  It  requires  serious  business  to  drag  you 
from  one  side  to  the  other. 

Turning  from  the  Avenue  to  the  right,  we  have  at  the  top  of  the 
street,  which  we  thus  enter,  a  large  unfinished  brick  building,  with 
the  holes  occasioned  by  the  scaffolding  yet  in  the  walls,  and  with  a 
liberty  pole  rising  to  the  very  clouds  in  front  of  it.  This  is  the  City- 
Hall,  the  funds  for  building  which  were  raised  by  lottery;  but  some 
one  decamping  with  a  portion  of  them,  the  building,  which  was 
bounded  in  chance,  runs  a  chance  of  never  being  completed.  Con- 
tinuing almost  in  the  same  line  to  the  westward,  we  come  to  the 
General  Post  Office,  the  choicest  architectural  bijou  in  Washington, 
being  a  neat  classic  structure  built  of  white  marble,  and  about  the 
f  ize  of  Trinity  House.  Its  beauties  are,  however,  almost  lost  from 
defect  of  site,  the  fate  of  so  many  of  our  own  finest  public  edifices. 
Immediately  to  the  north  of  the  Post  Office  is  the  Patent  Office,  an 
imposing  pile,  with  a  massive  Doric  portico  in  the  centre,  approached 
by  a  broad  and  lofty  flight  of  steps.  But  one  quarter  of  it  is,  as  yet, 
built;  the  design  consisting  of  four  similar  fronts,  which  will  enclose 
a  hollow  square.  Farther  west,  and  at  the  end  of  the  nearest  parallel 
street  to  Pennsylvania-avenue,  is  the  Treasury,  a  handsome  building, 
the  front  of  which  presents  one  of  the  finest,  as  it  is  certainly  one 
of  the  longest  colonnades  in  the  world.  But  this  brings  us  to  the 
Executive  mansion  and  its  adjuncts. 

In  the  midst  of  a  large  open  square,  on  a  piece  of  high  ground 
overlooking  the  Potomac,  though  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  back  from 
it,  is  the  President's  House,  or  the  "White  House,"  as  it  is  more 
generally  called.  It  is  a  spacious  and  elegant  mansion,  surrounded 
by  soft  sloj)ing  lawns,  shaded  by  lofty  trees,  and  dotted  with  shrub- 
bery. Within  this  square,  and  forming,  as  it  were,  its  four  angles, 
are  the  four  departments  of  State,  ihose  of  the  Treasury,  of  State,  of 
War,  and  of  the  Navy,  each  of  which  is  approached  by  the  public 
from  one  of  the  four  streets  which  encompass  the  Executive  grounds. 
To  each  a  private  path  also  leads  from  the  President's  house,  the 
chief  magistrate  sitting,  as  it  were,  like  a  spider,  in  the  centre  of  his 
web,  from  which  he  constantly  overlooks  the  occurrences  at  its  ex- 


112  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

tremiiies.  With  the  exception  of  the  Treasury,  which  is  new,  the 
departments  are  plain  brick  buildings,  painted  in  singular  taste,  of  a 
son  of  diluted  sky-blue  colour. 

With  the  exception  of  the  Capitol,  to  which  I  shall  presendy  ad- 
vert, this  list  comprises  the  only  architectural  features  worthy  of 
notice  in  the  general  view  of  Washington.  Separated,  as  tliey  are, 
at  great  distances  from  each  other,  their  effect  is  entirely  lost.  On 
my  once  suggesting  to  a  resident,  that  it  would  have  been  much  better 
liad  they  all  been  placed  together,  so  as  to  have  formed  a  noble 
square,  which,  viewed  as  a  centre,  would  have  imparted  a  unity  to 
one's  idea  of  the  town;  he  told  me  that  they  all  now  deeply  regretted 
that  this  had  not  been  the  case,  the  only  reason  assigned  for  scatter- 
ing them  being  to  prevent  the  different  heads  of  departments  from 
being  constantly  disturbed  by  the  intrusion  of  members  of  Congress. 
As  they  are,  Washington  has  no  visible  centre — no  one  point  upon 
which  converge  the  ideas  of  its  inhabitants.  But  let  us  back  again 
to  the  Capitol. 

It  is  a  thousand  pities  that  its  front  is  not  turned  upon  Pennsylva- 
nia-avenue. The  city  being  intended  to  grow  the  other  way,  the 
front  of  the  Capitol  was  turned  to  the  east;  but  the  town  having  taken 
the  contrary  direction,  the  legislative  palace  has  the  appearance  of 
turning  its  back  upon  it.  But  notwithstanding  this,  it  has  a  most 
imposing  effect,  rising,  as  it  does,  in  classic  elegance  from  its  lofty 
site,  over  the  greensward  and  rich  embowering  foliage  of  the  low 
grounds  at  its  base.  As  seen  at  one  end  of  the  Avenue,  from  the 
grounds  of  the  President's  house  at  the  other,  there  are  few  buildings 
in  the  world  that  can  look  to  better  advantajre.  I  have  seen  it  when 
its  milk-white  walls  were  swathed  in  moonlight,  and  when,  as  viewed 
from  amid  the  fountains  and  shrubbery  which  encircle  it,  it  looked 
more  like  a  creation  of  fairy-land  than  a  substantial  reality.  Passing 
to  the  high  ground,  on  its  eastern  side,  we  have  its  principal  front, 
the  chief  feature  of  which  is  a  deep  Corinthian  portico,  approached 
by  a  double  flight  of  steps,  and  from  which  seems  to  spring  the  lofty 
dome,  which  crowns  the  building,  and  gives  solidity  to  the  whole, 
by  uniting  it,  as  it  were,  in  one  compact  mass.  This  elevation  is 
well  seen  from  the  spacious  esplanade  in  front,  and  from  the  orna- 
mental grounds  immediately  beyond.  The  stairs  leading  to  the 
portico  are  flanked  by  pedestals,  designed  for  groups  of  statuary,  one 
of  which  only  is  as  yet  occupied,  by  a  marble  group,  representing 
Columbus  holding  a  globe  in  his  extended  right  hand,  with  an  abo- 
riginal native  of  the  new  world,  a  female  tigure,  crouching  beside  him 
in  mingled  fear  and  admiration.  The  execution  of  this  group  is 
much  belter  than  its  design,  which  is  ridiculously  theatric.  Ascend- 
ing the  steps,  you  have,  beneath  the  portico,  in  a  niche  on  either 
side  of  the  door  leading  into  the  body  of  the  building,  a  marble  figure 
of  Peace  and  War.     Passing  through  this  door,  you  are  ushered  at 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  113 

once  into  the  rotunda,  surmounted  by,  and  lighted  from  the  dome. 
It  extends  the  whole  width  of  the  main  building,  the  perpendicular 
part  of  its  walls  being  divided  into  large  panels,  designed  for  the  re- 
ception  of  historic  paintings.  Most  of  these  are  already  filled,  chiefly 
with  incidents  of  the  revolutionary  struggle;  whilst  those  still  empty 
will,  no  doubt,  soon  be  occupied  by  representations  of  some  of  the 
more  prominent  events  of  the  Mexican  war.  Turning  to  the  left,  on 
entering  the  rotunda,  you  pass  tlirough  a  door  which  leads  to  the 
House  of  Representatives,  an  enormous  semicircular  chamber,  with 
a  lofty  vaulted  roof,  resembling  on  the  whole,  the  bisection  of  a  dome. 
A  row  of  massive  and  lofty  pillars,  composed  of  a  kind  of  "  pudding 
stone,"  which  takes  a  polish  equal  to  that  of  marble,  spiing  from  the 
floor,  and  form  an  inner  arc  to  the  outer  one  formed  by  the  circular 
wall  of  the  chamber.  Between  the  pillars  and  this  wall  is  the 
fitrangers'  gallery.  The  speaker's  chair  occupies,  as  it  were,  the 
centre  of  the  chord  of  the  arc,  being  immediately  in  front  of  a  screen 
of  smaller  pillars,  supporting  another  gallery,  occupying  a  deep  recess 
in  the  wall,  and  which  is  set  apart  for  such  private  friends  as  mem- 
bers choose  to  introduce  into  it.  The  seats  of  members  radiate  from 
the  ehair  back  to  the  great  pillars,  leaving  an  open  semicircular  space 
immediately  in  front  of  the  clerk's  table.  The  hall  looks  well,  but 
is  ill-adapted  for  its  purpose,  it  being  far  too  large  to  speak  in  with 
<-omfort,  in  addition  to  which,  its  acoustic  arrangements  are  any  thing 
fjut  perfect. 

To  get  to  the  senate  chamber  you  have  to  cross  the  rotunda.  Its 
general  outline  is,  in  most  respects,  similar  to  that  of  the  House  of 
Representatives,  difiering  from  it  in  this,  that  it  is  not  above  one-third 
the  size.  It  is  lighter,  neater,  and  much  better  in  its  eflect  than  its 
rival  chamber  in  the  other  wing  of  the  Capitol;  and  is,  in  every  way, 
fidmirably  adapted  for  public  speaking.  It  is  also  provided  with  gal- 
leries for  the  public,  seals  being  raised  around  the  body  of  the  cham- 
ber for  the  diplomatic  eorps,  tlie  judges,  and  such  niembeis  of  the 
^lovernment  as  choose  to  be  witnesses  of  the  deliberations  of  the 
fSenate. 

Ascending  one  day  to  tlie  gallery,  I  witnessed  a  sight  which  brought 
Into  painful  contrast  some  of  the  lights  and  shadows  of  Ameiican  life. 
< -rouched  at  the  top  of  the  dark  staircase  was  an  object,  the  precise 
form  and  character  of  which  I  did  not  at  first  comprehend;  nor  was 
h  until  my  eye  had  adjusted  itself  to  the  imperfect  light,  that  I  dis- 
covered it  to  be  an  aged  negro,  his  hair  partially  whitened  with  years, 
and  his  fingers  crooked  with  toil.  Near  him  was  the  door  leading 
into  the  gallery.  It  was  slightly  ajar.  The  ceiling  of  the  chamber 
was  visible  to  him,  and  the  voices  of  the  speakers  came  audibly  from 
within.  Some  one  was  then  addressing  the  house.  I  listened  and 
recognised  the  tones  of  one  of  the  representatives  of  \irginia,  the 
great  breeder  of  slaves,  dogmalizin^  upon  abstract  rights  and  consti- 

10* 


114  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

lullonal  privileges.  What  a  commentary  was  that  poor  wretch  upon 
his  language  !  To  think  that  such  words  should  fall  upon  such  ears  ; 
the  freeman  speaking,  the  slave  listening,  and  all  within  the  very- 
sanctuary  of  the  constitution.  I  entered  the  chamher,  and  could  not 
help,  during  all  the  time  that  I  remained  there,  seeingf  in  fancy  that 
decrepit  old  slave  kneeling  at  the  foot  of  the  chair  in  impotent  suppli- 
cation for  justice. 

Immediately  after  the  house  had  risen,  I  perceived  him  busy  with 
others  cleaning  out  the  chamber.  Indeed,  during  the  session,  the 
whole  Capitol  is  daily  swept  by  negroes  ;  the  black  man  cleaning  what 
the  white  man  defiles.  Who  will  erase  the  mora!  stain  that  casts  such 
a  shadow  over  the  republic?  Will  the  white  man  have  the  magnani- 
mity to  do  it;  or  will  the  black  man  have  to  purify  the  constitution 
for  himself,  as  he  now  sweeps  the  dust  of  his  oppressors  from  the 
steps  of  the  Capitol? 


CHAPTER  X. 


LIFE  IN  WASHINGTON. 


Peculiar  Social  Development  in  Washington. — Causes  of  this. — Heterogene- 
ous Elements  of  which  Society  in  the  Capital  is  composed.— Exceptions 
to  Washington  life,  in  its  exterior  aspect. — Refined  Circles  in  Washing- 
ton.— The  Rotunda  and  the  Library.— American  Statesmen.— John  C. 
Calhoun. 

From  the  district  of  Columbia,  as  from  an  elevated  point  of  sight, 
there  are  some  respects  in  which  the  whole  confederation  may  bo 
advantageously  viewed.  To  the  federal  capital,  whilst  Congros.^ 
is  in  session,  converge  as  to  a  focus  the  diversified  peculiarities  and 
conflicting  intei^sts  of  the  Union.  Elsewhere  you  come  in  con- 
tact with  but  its  dhjecia  membra;  whilst  here,  although  some 
features  may  be  but  faintly  traced,  the  republic  is  to  be  seen  in  its 
entire  outline.  Here  the  east  and  the  west,  the  north  and  the  south  ; 
the  free  interest  and  the  slave  interest;  the  commerce,  the  manu- 
factures, and  the  agriculture  of  America,  meet  face  to  face,  discern 
their  relative  positions,  and  measure  each  other's  strength.  This 
is  the  arena  common  to  all  parties;  the  spot  where  great  material 
interests  clash  and  are  reconciled  again  ;  where  national  policies 
are  hnilt  up  and  are  overthrown;   where  faction  develops  its  stva* 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  115 

tegy,  and  moral  forces  exhaust  themselves  in  periodic  conflict  with 
each  other.  Here  also  is  to  be  seen  in  constant  whirl  the  balance- 
wheel,  such  as  it  is,  of  the  most  complicated  political  machine  on 
earth  ;  and  here  may  be  best  appreciated  the  working  and  the  value 
of  the  constitution. 

Contemplated  from  the  capital,  however,  the  republic  is  better 
understood  in  its  political  than  in  its  social  character.  It  is  quite 
true  that  the  different  phases  of  American  society  are  to  be  met 
with  in  Washington.  But  to  form  a  correct  estimate  of  social  life 
in  America,  it  must  be  carefully  considered  beyond  the  bounds  of 
the  capital.  Its  development  in  Washington  is  peculiar,  owing  to 
the  heterogeneous  elements  which  are  there  thrown  together,  and 
considered  alone  would  afford  but  an  inadequate  idea  of  the  social 
system  of  the  continent.  In  the  singular  moral  agglomeration 
which  Washington  presents,  whatever  may  be  disagreeable  in 
American  society  comes  strongly  out.  A  more  extended  survey 
leaves  a  better  impression.  But  before  taking  this  survey,  it  may 
be  as  well  to  initiate  the  reader  into  some  of  the  peculiarities  of 
Washington  life. 

The  first  thing  that  strikes  the  stranger  is  the  unsettled  aspect 
which  society  there  presents.  Long  before  he  has  analyzed  it,  and 
searched  into  its  peculiarities,  he  discerns  the  traces  of  instability 
which  are  deeply  imprinted  upon  it.  He  scarcely  perceives  a  fea- 
ture about  it  that  is  permanent — a  characteristic  that  is  durable. 
It  affords  no  tokens  to  him  of  constant  and  undeviating  progression  ; 
but,  on  the  contrary,  all  the  evidences  of  froward  and  fitful  life.  It 
seems  to  have  had  no  past,  whilst  it  is  difficult  to  divine  what  its 
future  will  be — to  have  been  formed  to-day,  and  not  designed  to 
last  beyond  to-morrow.  It  appears,  in  short,  to  be  a  mere  tempo- 
rary arrangement,  to  give  time  for  the  organization  of  something 
better. 

Nor  is  all  this  difficult  to  account  for.  It  is  the  natural  conse- 
quence of  the  fluctuating  materials  of  which  it  is  composed,  and  of 
the  frequently  irreconcilable  qualities  of  its  component  parts.  It  is 
like  a  fabric  of  coarse  texture,  hastily  woven  of  ill-assorted  materials, 
speedily  dissolved  only  to  be  woven  again  anew.  No  sooner  does 
it  assume  a  shape  than  its  outlines  disappear  again,  to  be  once  more 
brought  into  form,  which  it  is  destined  again  to  lose.  It  is  this  suc- 
cession of  semi-formation  and  semi-dissolution — this  periodicity  in 
its  construction  and  disintegration — that  makes  the  chronic  condition 
of  society  in  Washington  present  the  same  phenomena  to  the  stran- 
ger, as  other  social  systems  have  exhibited  when  in  a  state  of  violent 
transition. 

The  better  to  understand  this,  let  me  here  present  the  reader  with 
a  general  idea  of  the  capital.  At  best,  Washington  is  but  a  small 
town,  a  fourth-rate  community  as  to  extent,  even  in  America.     When 


116  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

Congress  is  not  sitting,  it  is  dull  and  insipid  to  a  deoree,  its  periodi- 
cal excitements  disappearing  witli  the  bulk  of  its  population.  It  is,  in 
fact,  a  town  of  boarding-houses  and  hotels;  the  principal  occupation 
of  tliose  left  behind,  after  the  rising  of  Congress,  appearing  to  be,  to 
keep  the  empty  town  well  aired  for  the  next  legislative  session  and 
the  next  influx  of  population.  During  the  recess,  the  population 
consists  of  the  corps  diplomatique,  the  chief  and  subordinate  oflicials 
of  the  government  and  their  families,  idle-shopkeepers,  boarding- 
tiouse  keepers,  and  slaves.  Sometimes  the  diplomatic  body  and  the 
higher  civil  functionaries  of  the  republic,  withdraw  altogether  for  the 
sickly  months  of  August  and  September.  A  more  forlorn  and  life- 
less appearance  can  scarcely  be  conceived  than  is  then  worn  by  the 
American  capital.  It  is  like  a  body  without  animation,  a  social  ca- 
davre,  a  moral  Dead  Sea. 

From  this  state  of  torpidity  it  is  annually  roused  about  the  begin- 
ning of  December,  the  first  Monday  of  which  is  the  day  fixed  by  the 
constitution  for  the  assemblage  of  Congress.     For  some  weeks  pre- 
viously to  this,  the  note  of  preparation  is  sounded;  the  hotels  are 
re-opened,  whole  streets  of  boarding-houses  are  put  in  order  for  the 
winter,  shopkeepers  replenish  their  stocks,  and  the  deserted  village 
once  more  assumes  the  aspect  of  a  tolerably  busding  town.     But  it  is 
not  till  about  the  beginning  of  the  year  that  the  tide  of  population 
may  be  regarded  as  at  its  full.     And  what  a  motley  heterogeneous 
assemblage  does  Washington  then  contain!     Within  a  narrow  com- 
pass you  have  the  semi-savage  "Far  Westerner,"  the  burly  back- 
woodsman,  the  enterprising  New-Englander,  the  genuine  Sam  Slick, 
the  polished  Bostonian,  the  adventurous  New  Yorker,  the  staid  and 
prim   Philadelphian,  the  princely  merchant  from  the  sea-board,  the 
wealthy  manufacturer,  the  energetic  farmer  and  the  languid  but  un- 
certain planter.      Were  Washington  a  large  town,  with  a  permanent 
and  settled  society,  this  influx  of  incongruous  elements   might  peri- 
odically merge  in  without  sensibly  affecting  it.     But  this  is  not  the 
case,  and  it  is  from  the  different  pursuits,  the  diversified  habits,  the 
opposite  views,  the  conflicting  sentiments,  the  unadjusted  sympathies 
and  incompatible  tastes  of  this  motley  concurrence  of  legislators, 
placemen,  place-hunters,  partisans  and  idlers,  that  the  characteristics 
of  Washington  society  annually  arise.     It  is  impossible  for  such  ma- 
terials to  combine  into  a  structure,  either  harmonious  or  ornamenial. 
Let  me  not  be  understood,  however,  to  say  that  there  are  no  excep- 
tions to  this  unflattering  picture:  for  amongst  the  permanent,  as  well 
as  the  occasional  residents  of  Washington,  are  many  who  would  do 
honour  to  any  society;  but  they  are  not  sullicienily  numerous  to  im- 
part a  character  to  Washington  life.     They   have,  generally,  their 
own  coteries,  to  which  they  confine  themselves.     They  withdraw 
from  that  which  is  foreign  to  their  tastes,  and  thus  the  better  features 
of  Washington  life  are  concealed  beneath  tiie  surface.     They  can 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  117 

neither  resist  the  tide,  nor  guide  the  current ;  so  they  modestly  dip 
their  heads,  and  let  it  pass  over  them.  It  is  the  rough  incongruous 
crowd  that  gives  society  its  tone  and  colouring  :  and  what  renders  the 
thing  all  the  more  hopeless  is,  that  whilst  the  general  characteristics 
of  the  crowd  remain,  the  individuals  are  constantly  changing.  Those 
presentto-dayaregoneto-morrow,  their  places  being  occupied  by  others 
of  the  same  stamp  with  themselves.  You  might  as  well  attempt  to 
construct  a  city  of  the  ever-sliifting  sands  of  the  desert,  as  to  organ- 
ize any  thing  like  a  permanent  social  fabric  out  of  the  incoherent  and 
evanescent  materials  which  are  to  be  found  in  Washington. 

To  reduce  the  moral  chaos,  thus  annually  presented,  to  something 
like  shape  and  order,  the  most  powerful  influences  are  required,  and 
some  of  the  best  of  these  are  wanting.  In  no  part  of  the  republic  is 
the  social  sway  of  woman  so  limited  as  it  is  in  the  capital.  This 
does  not  arise  from  any  inferiority  in  the  Washington  ladies,  but 
from  the  absolute  paucity  of  their  numbers.  The  great  majority  of 
those  who  crowd  into  the  city  during  the  session,  either  leave 
their  families  behind  them  or  have  none  to  accompany  them.  It  is 
quite  true,  that  most  of  the  members  of  the  Senate,  and  several  of  the 
Lower  House,  are  accompanied  by  their  wives  and  children ;  but 
these,  with  the  flying  visiters,  male  and  female,  who  constantly  come 
and  go,  are  exceptions  to  the  rule.  To  the  great  bulk  of  the  merely 
sessional  residents,  the  stay  of  a  few  months  in  Washington  is  re- 
garded more  in  the  light  of  a  protracted  "spree"  than  as  any  thing 
else.  They  may,  to  be  sure,  have  their  legislative  and  other  duties 
to  attend  to,  but  these  merely  constitute  a  part  of  the  round  of  excite- 
ments to  which  they  give  themselves  up.  A  walk  into  the  streets,  a 
visit  to  one  of  the  hotels,  the  very  complexion  of  the  boarding-houses, 
will  suffice  to  show  the  dearth  in  Washington  society  of  the  more 
softening  influences.  When  neither  House  of  Congress  is  sitting, 
groups  of  male  idlers  are  constantly  to  be  seen  loitering  in  the  streets, 
or  smoking  and  chewing  in  crowds  in  front  of  the  hotels,  where 
they  ogle  with  little  delicacy  the  few  women  that  pass;  or  noisily 
congregated  in  the  bar-room,  treating  themselves  liberally  to  gin 
slings,  sherry  coblers,  and  mint  juleps.  The  more  quietly  disposed 
of  the  members  of  Congress  take  up  their  quartere  in  the  boarding- 
houses  more  convenient  to  the  capital,  where  they  are  accommodated 
in  messes,  sometimes  twenty  of  them  living  together  under  the  same 
roof,  and  daily  meeting  at  the  same  table.  These  "Congress  mess- 
es" are  imitated  elsewhere,  and  for  one  boarding-house  with  mixed 
company,  there  are  ten  in  which  no  female  but  the  landlady  is  to  be 
met  with.  It  is  obvious  that  such  a  development  of  social  life  can 
give  rise  to  but  little  variety  of  mental  occupation.  Parlies,  gene- 
rally speaking,  with  no  very  extensive  range  of  intellectual  acquire- 
ment, thus  ke")3t  constantly  together,  under  almost  the  same  circum- 
stances, have  but  few  topics  of  conversation,  but  these  unfortunately 


118  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

are  prolific  of  wrangling  and  excitement.  Politics  and  party  ques- 
tions occupy  nine-tenths  of  their  time,  in  discussing  whicli  their 
minds  are  kept,  as  it  were,  in  a  continual  state  of  fever  heat.  The 
habit  of  disputation  which  this  engenders,  and  the  state  of  normal 
antagonism  into  which  it  casts  their  minds,  are  by  no  means  fa- 
vourable to  the  cultivation  of  the  social  amenities.  Their  constant 
intercourse  with  each  other  is  as  that  of  partisans  or  political  op- 
ponents. The  tie  of  friendship  is  subservient  to  considerations  of 
party  and  self-interest,  and  it  is  seldom  that  they  find  those  amelio- 
rating influences  intervening  between  them,  which,  in  other  por- 
tions of  the  world,  partly  separate  only  to  keep  men  in  kindlier  con- 
tact with  each  other.  The  Sabine  women  interfered  between  their 
kinsmen  and  their  husbands,  and  made  friends  of  those  who  had 
been  mortal  enemies.  It  is  a  thousand  pities  that  the  genial  pre- 
sence of  similar  arbitrators  does  not  interfere  to  sooth  the  asperities 
of  political  disputation  in  the  American  capital. 

From  all  this  may  be  readily  conceived  how  coarse  and  unat- 
tractive a  surface  Washington  society  presents  to  the  world.  On 
most  persons  who  come  in  contact  with  it  is  its  effect  speedily  dis- 
cernible. In  the  case  of  some  it  tarnishes  the  lustre  of  pre-con- 
tracted refinements ;  in  that  of  others,  as  colours  are  fixed  by  fire, 
it  aggravates  the  rougher  and  more  repulsive  features  of  their  cha- 
racter. Many  sink  to  the  condition  of  moral  bears — demeaning 
themselves  as  if  they  had  never  known  a  social  restraint,  and  as  if 
tlie  more  graceful  conventionalities  of  civilization  were  essentially 
alien  to  their  nature.  In  their  mutual  intercourse,  but  little  cour- 
tesy of  manner  or  suavity  of  disposition  is  displayed.  They  are 
manly  without  being  gentlemanly.  When  they  do  approach  a  lady, 
their  demeanour  is  more  that  of  elaborate  awkwardness  than  of 
ease  and  self-possession.  Their  politeness  partakes  largely  of  the 
characteristics  of  their  daily  life  ;  it  is  bustling,  obtrusive,  and  some- 
times offensive.  Time  and  again  have  I  seen  ladies  blush  at  the 
awkward  ambiguity  of  their  compliments.  But  how  can  it  be 
otherwise  with  those,  who  generally  exchange  the  duties  of  the 
day  only  for  the  grosser  amusements?  In  the  way  of  the  higher 
amusements,  Wasliington  is  very  ill  provided.  Were  music  culti- 
vated, or  did  the  drama  flourish  in  it,  or  were  there  other  sources  of 
intellectual  pastime  to  which  the  jaded  politician  could  resort,  the 
aspect  of  things  might  be  changed.  But  as  it  is,  the  approach  of  a 
third  rate  vocalist,  of  a  peripatetic  juggler,  or  a  strolling  equestrian 
company,  creates  a  sensation  in  Washington  equal  to  that  of  an  Eng- 
lish village  under  the  same  lofty  excitements.  I  once  witnessed  the 
performance  of  an  equestrian  company  there,  when  the  whole 
population  seemed  to  have  gathered  under  the  tent,  including  the 
diplomatic  corps,  and  the  functionaries  of  government,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  the  Presidejtt.     This  want  of  intellectual  amusement, 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  1 19 

combined  with  the  inadequacy  of  female  society,  throws  many  into 
a  course  of  habitual,  but  slill  temperate  dissipation.  From  morn- 
ing till  night  the  bar-rooms  of  the  hotels  are  full;  the  bar,  indeed, 
being  the  chief  source  of  the  hotel-keepers'  revenue.  Amono^st 
those  who  frequent  them  is  generally  to  be  found  a  large  sprinkling 
of  members  of  Congress.  Some  of  these  gentlemen,  for  want  of 
other  occupation,  raised  a  subscription  two  or  three  years  ago,  for 
the  purpose  of  presenting  a  testimonial  to  one  of  the  bar-keepers 
of  the  National  Hotel,  whose  fame  as  a  compounder  of  gin  sling  and 
mint  julep  was  almost  co-extensive  with  the  bounds  of  the  repub- 
lic. Amongst  the  ornaments  of  the  bar  was  a  portrait  of  this  func- 
tionary, exhibiting  his  adroit  manipulations  in  the  more  critical 
operations  of  his  calling.  The  testimonial  consisted  of  two  silver 
cups,  similar  to  those  used  by  him  in  compounding  his  mixtures, 
the  inscription  on  one  of  them  testifying  that  they  were  a  token  of 
the  admiration  of  the  donors,  for  his  "  eminent  services  at  the 
Washington  bar."  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  this  was  a  national 
tribute  to  the  worthy  in  question,  but  it  speaks  volumes,  that  its 
principal  promoters  were  members  of  the  federal  legislature. 

Few  as  are  the  virtues  .of  social  life  which  sparkle  on  the  surface 
of  Washington  society,  it  was  some  time  ere  I  was  made  aware  of 
the  extent  to  which  its  vices  were  covertly  practised.  Walking 
home  one  morning,  about  two  o'clock,  with  a  friend,  he  asked  me, 
whilst  passing  down  Pennsylvania-avenue,  to  accompany  him  to  a 
place  where  he  would  show  me  a  feature  of  Washington  life  to 
which  I  was  yet  a  stranger.  We  thereupon  entered  an  open 
lobby,  and  passed  up  stairs,  when,  on  opening  the  first  door  we 
came  to,  I  beheld,  as  thick  and  as  busy  as  bees  in  a  hive,  a  set  of  men 
in  crowds  around  several  tables,  engaged  in  the  hazards,  and 
plunged  in  all  the  excitements  of  gambling — the  game  being  faro,  and 
the  stakes  by  no  means  contemptible. 

I  remained  for  some  time  contemplating  a  scene,  singularly  di- 
versified, as  respects  character  and  the  display  of  passion.  The 
company  was  of  a  very  mixed  character,  comprising  artisans,  trades- 
men, shop-keepers,  a  few  professional  men,  and  many  idlers.  Noi- 
siest and  busiest  of  all,  was  one  of  the  members  for  Alabama ;  and 
it  was  not  long  ere  I  heard  exclamations,  alternating  between  satis- 
faction and  disappointment,  breaking  from  lips  which  I  had  heard 
discourse  most  eloquently  in  the  Capitol  on  the  aristocratic  vices  of 
England.  The  night  was  hot,  the  atmosphere  of  the  room  was 
stifling,  and  most  of  those  present  were  in  their  shirt-sleeves.  In  a 
back  room,  the  door  of  which  stood  invitingly  open,  was  a  table 
amply  set  out  with  a  gratuitous  provision  of  edibles,  and  every 
species  of  alcoholic  beverage.  On  entering  we  were  invited  to  par- 
take, but  declined.  The  less  experienced  hands  vainly  endeavoured 
to  drown  their  excitements  by  frequent  potations — the  more  know- 
ing kept  aloof  from  the  bottle. 


120 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 


On  quilting  this  scene,  we  entered  three  other  houses  close  by, 
only  to  witness,  in  each,  a  similar  exhibition. 

"I  am  surprised,"  said  I  to  my  friend,  on  our  finally  emerging 
into  the  open  air,  "to  find  so  small  a  community  as  that  of  Wash- 
ington so  largely  impregnated  with  some  of  the  worst  vices  of  the 
wealthier  and  more  luxurious  capitals  of  Europe." 

"  Many  of  those  whom  you  have  just  seen,"  said  he,  "  are  driven 
to  the  gambling-table  merely  to  while  away  their  time." 

"  But  could  they  not,"  inquired  I,  "  accomplish  the  same  object 
by  seeking  other  occupations  ?" 

"The  worst  of  it  is,"  rejoined  he,  "that  their  opportunities  in 
that  respect  are  limited.  Such  of  them  as  have  a  taste  for  society 
soon  exhaust  the  round  of  their  acquaintances,  and  having  no  other 
sources  of  legitimate  pastime  within  reach,  must  elect  between 
ennui  and  questionable  devices  to  avoid  it.  Such,  on  the  other 
hand,  as  have  no  taste  for  social  intercourse,  resort  perhaps  natu- 
rally enough,  to  equivocal  practices.  Add  to  this,  that  some  of  the 
members,  who  receive  eight  dollars  a-day  and  live  perhaps  on 
three,  have  spare  cash  in  hand,  which  they  look  upon  as  so  much 
money  found,  and  which  they  are  willing  to  risk,  on  the  ground 
that,  if  they  lose  it  they  will  be  none  the  poorer.  This  calls  annu- 
ally to  Washington  a  number  of  professional  gamblers,  who  gene- 
rally manage  to  fleece  a  few  of  the  people's  representatives,  al- 
though they  sometimes  get  plucked  themselves." 

As  already  intimated,  the  foregoing  description  is  not  universally 
applicable  to  Washington  society.  It  is  its  portraiture,  as  it  strikes 
the  stranger  who  stands  aside  an  impartial  observer  of  its  general 
development.  Such  as  I  have  shown  it  to  be,  is  it  in  the 
main, — the  ungainly  product  of  unsympathetic  elements, — the  rough 
fabric,  woven  of  intractable  materials.  Its  softer  and  more  attract- 
ive features  have  to  be  sought  to  be  observed :  they  do  not,  how- 
ever, enter  into  the  general  picture,  being  more  like  ornaments 
upon  the  frame.  Notwithstanding  its  general  roughness,  there  are 
pleasant  by-ways  in  Washington  life.  Its  turbulent  current  is 
flanked  by  many  quiet  eddies,  where  refinement  prevails,  and 
whence  the  social  graces  are  not  banished. 

The  better  portion  of  AVashington  society  is  confined  to  a  very 
narrow  circle.  It  has  a  fixed  and,  at  the  same  time,  a  flitting  as- 
pect, a  nucleus  and  a  coma.  Its  permanent  centre  is  composed  of 
the  families  of  the  resident  officials;  its  varying  adjuncts  consist  of 
such  families  as  are  only  sessionally  resident,  and  such  flying  visi- 
ters as  are  eligible  to  its  circle.  Amongst  the  members  of  the  resi- 
dent families  is  to  be  found  a  dejjree  of  refinement  and  eleo^ance, 
which  would  do  no  discredit  to  the  best  society  in  the  most  fashion- 
able capitals.  Their  nuitual  intercourse  is  easy  and  jrraceful,  and 
pleasantly  contrasts  with  the  general  boorishness  which  surrounds 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD*  121 

triem.  Nor  are  they  deficient  in  spirit,  humour,  vivacity,  or  intel- 
lectual acquirements — the  young  ladies  being  well  disciplined  both 
in  the  essentials  and  the  accomplishments  of  education,  and  well 
trained  to  all  the  conventional  elegancies  of  life.  Amongst  the  resi- 
dent families  may  be  comprised  the  different  members  of  the  diplo- 
matic corps,  embracing  the  representatives  of  all  the  great  powers, 
with  the  single  exception  of  Austria.  Forming  a  large  proportion 
of  the  circle  in  which  they  move,  their  influence  upon  its  general 
character  is  permanent  as  it  is  obvious.  Superadded  to  these  are 
the  families  of  such  members  of  Congress  as  choose  to  come  thus 
accompanied  to  the  capital  during  the  legislative  session.  These 
again  comprise  two  classes;  such  as  fuse  into  the  more  select  so- 
ciety of  the  town,  and  such  as  combine  to  form  a  circle  of  their 
own.  The  latter  generally  consists  of  New  Englanders,  v/ho  are 
more  staid  of  habit,  more  sedate  in  their  social  deportment,  and 
more  severe  in  their  moral  and  intellectual  discipline,  than  the  more 
mercurial  Southerner,  with  whom  they  are  placed  in  temporary 
juxtaposition.  It  was  my  good  fortune  to  know  several  families 
from  Massachusetts  and  the  neighbouring  States,  who  were  thus 
banded  together,  having  monopolized  several  contiguous  boarding- 
houses,  and  holding  but  little  intercourse  with  any  beyond  the  pale 
of  their  own  circle.  But  the  great  majority  of  these  temporary 
residents  merge  at  once  into  the  society  of  the  capital.  Composed, 
as  it  thus  is,  of  different  but  not  unharmonious  materials,  the  better 
order  of  society  in  Washington  exhibits  a  mixed  but  very  pleasing 
aspect,  presenting  a  happy  combination  of  European  urbanity  and 
American  accessibility.  It  is  thus  characterized  by  a  politeness 
■which  disowns  frigidity,  and  a  cordiality  which  discards  affectation. 
It  is  unnecessary  here  to  enter  into  further  particulars  concerning 
it,  partaking,  as  it  largely  does,  of  the  characteristic  features  of  Ame- 
rican society ;  of  which  a  general  view  will  be  taken  in  the  following 
chapter.  It  may  be  as  well,  however,  to  make  a  passing  allusion  to 
its  accessible  quality — not  that  it  throws  its  doors  open  to  every 
stranger  who  knocks  for  admittance,  but  that  it  is  readily  satisfied 
with  a  good  recommendation  and  a  gentlemanly  deportment.  The 
following  may  serve  as  an  illustration  of  the  ease  which  marks  its 
general  intercourse,  and  the  perfect  confidence  which  its  different 
members  have  in  each  other.  The  first  time  I  went  to  the  President's 
house  was  without  any  formal  invitation.  I  was  visiting  one  evening 
a  family  which  honoured  me  with  its  friendship  and  intimacy,  when 
an  invitation  came  from  Mrs.  Polk,  inviting  its  members  to  the  Exe- 
cutive mansion,  which  was  hard  by.  The  attendance  of  a  profes- 
sional vocalist  had  suddenly  been  procured,  and  the  invitation  was  to 
a  private  concert,  in  one  of  the  family  drawing-rooms.  The  young 
ladies  declined,  on  the  ground  of  having  visiters;  an  answer  was 
immediately  returned,  inviting  them  to  bring  their  friends.  We  ac- 
VOL.  I. —  1 1 


122  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

rordingly  went;  and  thus  my  first  presentation  to  the  President  and 
his  lady  was  of  a  more  agreeable  character  than  had  it  been  attended 
with  all  the  formalities  of  a  state  occasion.  It  is  very  common  for 
the  families  of  such  members  as  live  in  the  hotels,  to  give  weekly 
"hops,"  as  they  are  called,  which  are  neither  more  nor  less  than 
dancinor  parties,  divested  of  some  of  the  usual  ceremonies  of  such 
assemblages.  To  one  of  these,  occurring  on  the  same  evening  at 
the  National  hotel,  my  friends  were  invited,  as  was  I,  to  come  under 
their  auspices.  The  amusements  of  the  evening  were  thus  pleasantly 
varied  between  music  and  the  dance;  the  demeanour  of  all  whom  I 
met  at  both  places  being  such  as  bespoke  a  refinement  at  once  easy 
and  unexceptionable.  The  true  source  of  this  rather  attractive  fea- 
ture of  American  life  will  be  subsequently  considered. 

The  life  of  such  of  the  residents  as  move  in  this  circle  is  one  of 
constant  excitement  during  the  session,  and  of  comparative  repose 
during  the  recess.  I  once  remarked  to  a  lady,  that  Washington 
must  be  very  dull  when  Congress  was  not  sitting.  She  assured  me 
.that  it  was  quiet,  but  not  dull.  It  was  true,  she  said,  that,  for  the 
sickly  months,  it  was  deserted  by  all  who  could  afford  to  leave  it; 
but  it  appears  that,  for  some  time  after  the  rising  of  Congress,  the 
resident  society  enjoys  many  a  pleasant  reunio)i,  without  the  pre- 
sence of  strangers,  or  of  the  excitements  which  mark  the  period  of 
the  year  when  they  are  drawn  to  the  town.  The  elite  of  Washing- 
ton then  meet  each  other  almost  as  friends  who  had  been  separated 
for  some  time;  when  their  intercourse  is  of  the  most  easy,  friendly, 
and  intbrmbl  description. 

Durino  the  season,  the  time  of  the  fashionables  is  pretty  well  oc- 
cupied with  balls,  public  and  private,  soirees,  concerts,  and  other 
entertainments.  In  addition  to  the  part  which  they  take  in  the 
*' west-end  "  doings  of  Washington,  the  corps  diplomatiqve  keep  up 
a  distinctive  circle  of  their  own;  forming,  as  it  were,  a  less  world 
within  a  very  little  one.  Prominent  in  that  circle  is  the  sexagena- 
rian envoy  of  Russia,  with  his  young  and  lovely  American  wife: 
between  whom  and  the  bachelor  plenipotentiary  of  England  a  friendly 
emulation  seems  to  exist,  as  to  who  can  give  the  best  dinner-party. 
In  the  summer-time,  when  the  grounds  around  the  White  House 
are  clothed  in  verdure,  and  the  still  more  beautiful  precincts  of  the 
capital  are  shrouded  in  foliage,  and  enamelled  with  flowers,  a  mili- 
tary band  performs  for  some  hours  twice  a  week,  in  each  alternately, 
when  Washington  presents  a  scene  as  gay  as  Kensington  Gardens 
sometimes  exhibit,  under  similar  circumstances;  the  population 
turning  out  in  their  best  attire,  and  promenading  in  groups  to  the 
sound  of  music,  over  the  soft  grass,  amongst  trees,  shrubs,  and  flow- 
ers, and  amid  refreshing  fountains,  whose  marble  basins  are  filled 
with  gold  and  silver  fish. 

Tlie  Rotunda  of  the  Capitol  and  the  Library  of  Congress  are  two 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  123 

favourite  places  of  loungincr  during  the  day,  at  least  between  twelve 
and  three,  whilst  both  Houses  are  sitlinff.     The  latter  particularly 
seems  to  have  been  consecrated  to  the  purposes  of  flirtation.     It  is 
a  large  and   handsome  room,  occupying  the  whole  breadth  of  the 
back'lving  of  the  Capitol,  well  tilled  with  books,  which  are  seldom 
read,  hovvever,  during  these  hours.     It  is  flanked  by  a  spacious  co- 
lonnade balcony,  which  commands  a  noble  prospect,  comprising  the 
basin  of  the  Potomac,  and  a  considerable  portion  of  the  State  of  Vir- 
ginia, the  principal  part  of  the  town,  and  long  successive  sweeps  of 
the  fertile  plains  of  Maryland.     On  this  balcony,  in  the  room,  and 
in  the  diff'erent  "chapters"  or  recesses  into  which  it  is  divided  on 
either  side,  may  daily  be  encountered  during  the  session  a  fair  repre- 
sentation of  the  beauty  and  accomplishment  of  America.     Here  are 
to  be  found  the  exquisitely  formed  and  vivacious  Creole  from  New 
Orleans;   the  languid  but  interesting  daughters  of  Georgia  and  the 
Carolinas;  the  high-spirited  Virginia  belle,  gushing  with  life,  and 
light  of  heart;  the  elegant  and  springy  forms  of  the  Maryland  and 
Philadelphia  maidens,  and  the  clear  and  high-complexioned  beauties 
of  New  England.     They  are  surrounded  by  their  male  friends,  aged 
and  young,  the  attaches  of  the  different  embassies  enjoying  a  mus- 
tachioed conspicuity  in  the  scene,  and  pass  the  hours  in  frivolous 
chit-chat,  laughing  and  merry  all  the  while.     Now  and  then  a  busy 
politician  enters  from  either  house,  with  busding  gait  and  pensive 
brow,  refers  to  some  political  volume,  and  disappears,  leaving  the 
room  once  more  in  the  possession  of  the  idler,  the  flirt,  and  the  cox- 
comb. 

The  conversation  of  one  of  the  groups  of  idlers  chanced  one  day 
to  take  a  literary  turn,  when  a  discussion  arose  as  to  the  authorship 
of  the  passage,  "Music  hath  charms,  &c."  Being  unable  to  solve 
the  difficulty,  two  or  three  of  the  ladies  bounded  towards  a  sofa,  on 
which  reclined  the  veteran  ex-President,  John  Quincy  Adams,*  jaded 
with  political  warfare  and  panting  with  the  heat,  which  was  excess- 
ive. He  had  just  come  from  the  House  of  Representatives,  where 
he  had  been  listening  to  a  fierce  debate,  involving  the  character  of 
one  of  the  first  statesmen  of  the  Union,  and  one  of  the  greatest  orna- 
ments of  his  country.  Without  ceremony,  they  presented  their 
difficulty  to  him,  and  begged  him  to  solve  it;  but  the  "best  read 
man  in  America,"  as  he  was  styled,  was  discomfited,  and  had  to  own 
himself  so,  after  being  convinced  of  his  error  in  hinting  that  the  pas- 
sage might  be  found  in  the  "Merchant  of  Venice."  The  incident 
is  trifling  in  itself,  but  it  is  nevertheless  characteristic. 

But  one  of  the  most  interesting  of  all  the  features  of  Washington 
life  is  the  society  of  its  leading  politicians.  The  ability  and  grasp 
of  thought  of  some  of  these  men  are  only  equalled  by  their  suavity 
and  courtesy.     It   must  be  confessed,  however,  that  this  description 

*  Since  dead. 


124  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

applies  to  but  few  in  number — the  real  statesmen  of  the  country — 
not  the  crowd  of  brawling  and  obstreperous  political  adventurers  who 
unfortunately  play  too  conspicuous  a  part  in  the  social  drama  of  the 
capital.  Foremost  of  those  who  do  honour  to  their  country  by  the 
pre-eminence  of  their  talents,  the  purity  of  their  intentions,  and  the 
lustre  of  their  social  qualities,  is  John  C.  Calhoun,  one  of  the  sena- 
tors for  South  Carolina.  It  was  my  privilege  frequently  to  enjoy  the 
society  of  this  gifted  and  distins^uished  personage,  who,  by  the 
charms  of  his  conversation,  as  well  as  by  his  alTable  demeanour,  ex- 
cites the  admiration  of  all  who  approach  him,  whether  old  or  young, 
friend  or  adversary. 

The  foregoing  sketch  may  suffice  as  an  outline  of  social  life  in  the 
American  capital.  If,  in  its  main  features,  it  is  not  as  attractive  as 
are  the  conventional  phenomena  of  more  polished  communities,  it 
will  be  seen  that  it  is  not  deficient  in  traits  which  relieve  the  rude- 
ness of  its  general  character,  or  in  veins  of  sterling  ore  beneath, 
which,  to  some  extent,  atone  for  its  superficial  asperities. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


GENERAL    VIEW    OF    AMERICAN    SOCIETY. 

Different  Bases  on  which  Society  in  the  two  Hemispheres   is  erected 

Social  and  Political  Equality  in  America. — Effects  of  this  upon  Society 
in  its  external  manifestation. — Difference  between  Society  in  its  compre- 
hensive, and  Society  in  its  narrower,  sense,  in  America. — Influence  of 
Woman  within  the  Family  sphere. — Curious  Effects  of  this  upon  the  gene- 
ral Development  of  Society. — Exclusiveness  characteristic  of  the  In-door 
Life  of  American  Society. — Its  manifestations  in  Philadelphia,  Boston,  and 
New  York. — Essential  difference  between  Northern  and  Southern  Society 
in  America. — Causes  of  Dissimilarity. — Subsidiary  Divisions  of  American 
Society. — Influence  of  Religion  and  Politics. — Prominent  Position  of  the 
Young  Ladies. — Consequences  of  this. — Position  of  the  Young  Men. — 
Standard  of  Social  Requirements. — Power  of  Women  in  America. — Duties 
which  devolve  upon  the  more  Intellectual  Class. — Effect  of  Marriage  upon 
the  Social  Position  of  the  Female. — Early  age  at  which  Freedom  of  Action 
is  accorded  to  Young  Women  in  America. — Results  of  this. — Intercourse 
between  the  Sexes. — False  Notions  as  to  the  Prudery  of  the  Sex  in  Ame- 
rica.— Life  in  Newport,  Rhode  Island. — Early  Marriages,  Hotel  life,  and 
their  necessary  consequences. — Love  of  Music  and  Dancing. — Relative 
Positions  of  Masters  and  Servants  in  America. — Duel  in  America. — Ame- 
rican Beauty. 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  125 

If  there  is  much  hi  the  social  development  of  America  that  strikes 
an  European  as  different  from  that  to  which  he  has  been  accustomed, 
he  should  recollect  that  society,  in  the  two  hemispheres,  rests  upon 
very  ditfe rent  bases.     In  the  old  world,  where  the  feudal  relations 
are  still  permitted  so  largely  to  influence  the  arrangement  of  the 
social  system,  society  presents  an  agglomeration  of  distinct  parts, 
each  having  its  determinate  relation  to  the  rest,  and  the  members  of 
each  having  the  range  of  their  sympathies  confined   to  tlieir  own 
particular  sphere.     European  society,  in  its  diff*erent  manifestations, 
is   constituted,  as  it  were,  of  a  series   of  different  layers,  which, 
though  in   close  contact,  only  partially  fuse  into  each  other.     The 
consequence  is,  that,  although  a  common  tie  of  mutual  dependence 
unites  the  whole,  there  is  no  common  feeling  pervading  it,  each 
class  looking  chiefly  within  itself  for  its  sources  of  enjoyment  and 
intellectual  gratification,  and  recognising  the  others  more  as  political 
necessities  than  as  social  adjuncts.     The  sympathies  of  one  order 
touch,  but  do  not  intertwine   with,  those  of  another,  each  living 
within  itself,  as  if  it  had  no  interest  in  common  with   the  others, 
and  holding  littie  intercourse  with  them.     This   distinctiveness   of 
class   is  also  accompanied  with  an  inequality   of  position,  which 
exaggerates   the   prevailing  exclusiveness,  and   fetters  the   general 
relations  of  society  with  a  constraint  and  formalism,  which  renders 
one  class,  by  turns,  arrogant  and  awkward,  and  the  other  superci- 
lious and  condescending.     Within  each  the  social  graces  are  more 
or  less  cultivated,  and  the  refinements  of  life  more  or  less  displayed; 
the  constraint  is  visible  at  their  line  of  contact,  as  mutual  dislike  is 
often  found  to  pervade  the  borders  of  two  civilized   and  amicable 
states.     In  its  general  aspect,  therefore,  the  internal  intercourse  of 
European  society  is  less  marked  by  kindness  than   by  formality, 
less  regulated  by  sympathy  than  by  rule. 

Very  different  from  this  are  both  the  basis  and  the  manifestation 
of  society  in  America.  There  social  inequality  has  never  been  a 
recognised  principle,  moulding  the  social  fabric  into  arbitrary  forms, 
and  tyrannically  influencing  each  person's  position  in  the  general 
scheme.  Society  in  America  started  from  the  point  to  which  so- 
ciety in  Europe  is  only  yet  tending.  The  equality  of  man  is,  to 
this  moment,  its  corner-stone.  As  often  as  it  has  exhibited  any  ten- 
dency to  aberration,  has  it  been  brought  back  again  to  this  intelli- 
gible and  essential  principle.  American  society,  therefore,  exhibits 
itself  as  an  indivisible  whole,  its  general  characteristics  being  such 
as  mark  each  of  the  different  classes  into  which  European  society 
is  divided.  That  which  develops  itself  with  us  as  the  sympathy  of 
class,  becomes  in  America  the  general  sentiment  of  society.  There 
is  no  man  there  whose  position  every  other  man  does  not  understand; 
each  has  in  himself  the  key  to  the  feeliuiis  of  his  neighbour,  and  he 
measures  his  symjjathies  by  his  own.     The  absence  of  arbitrary  in- 

II* 


126  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

equalities  banishes  restraint  from  their  mutual  intercourse,  whilst 
their  mutual  appreciation  of  each  other's  sentiments  imparts  a  kind- 
ness and  cordiality  to  that  intercourse,  which  in  l:^urope  are  only  to 
be  found,  and  not  always  there,  within  the  circle  of  class. 

The  ease,  and  sincerity  of  manner,  which  spring  from  this  social 
manifestation,  are  so  marked,  as  immediately  to  strike  even  the  most 
apathetic  observer.  There  is  very  little  in  America  of  what  we  un- 
derstand by  acquaintanceship.  Intercourse  leads  to  friendship,  or  it 
leads  to  nothing,  it  being  contrary  to  an  American's  nature  to  feel 
indifferent,  and  yet  look  cordial.  Having  none  of  the  sympathies, 
he  has  none  of  the  antipathies  of  class;  iiis  circle  is  his  country  ; 
and  in  that  circle,  admitting  of  no  superiors,  he  sees  none  but  equals. 
Not  but  that  there  are  in  America  many  who  are  superior,  in  the 
share  which  they  possess  of  all  the  conventional  ingredients  of  a 
gentleman,  to  the  great  bulk  of  their  countrymen,  and  to  whom  cul- 
tivated society  is  more  grateful  than  that  which  is  rude  and  undis- 
ciplined. The  distinction  of  polish  and  refinement  is  all  the  differ- 
ence that  is  discernible  on  the  surface  of  American  society,  there 
being  no  exclusiveness  of  feeling,  or  isolation  of  sympathy  concealed 
beneath  a  polished  exterior.  The  American  is  first  and  essentially 
an  American,  and  then  a  gentleman:  with  him  refinement  is  not  the 
enamel  which  conceals  what  is  beneath,  but  the  polish  which  brings 
out  the  real  grain,  exhibiting  him  in  a  better  light,  but  ever  in  the 
same  character.  I  have  often  been  struck  with  the  readiness  with 
which  the  ease  and  franknesscharacteristicof  American  intercourse, 
have  led  parties  to  an  unreserved  interchange  of  views  and  senti- 
ments, although  they  might  have  come  from  the  most  remote  parts 
of  the  country,  and  had  never  seen  each  other  before.  How  can  it 
be  otherwise,  when  the  Georgian  can  put  himself  at  once  into  the 
position  of  the  i\Iissourian,and  the  resident  of  Louisianafinds  in  him- 
self the  counterpart  of  the  inhabitant  of  ]\Iaine?  It  is  this  ease  of 
manner  which  so  frequently  offends  the  stranger,  who  does  not  com- 
prehend its  origin :  that  which  is  the  natural  result  of  the  universality 
of  feeling  and  sympathy  in  America,  is  regarded  as  an  impudent 
liberty  with  us,  when  a  member  of  one  class  dares  to  address  one 
of  another,  in  those  terms  of  familiarity,  which  nothiiiir  but  a  com- 
munity  of  interest  and  sentiment  can  render  tolerable.  An  Ameri- 
can can  be  as  reserved  as  any  body  else,  when  he  comes  in  contact 
with  one  whom  he  does  not  understand,  or  who  will  not  understand 
him — and  this  is  the  reason  why  so  many  travellers  in  America, 
who  forget  to  leave  their  European  notions  of  exclusiveness  at  home, 
and  traverse  the  republic  wrapped  in  the  cloak  of  European  formal  is/n, 
find  the  x\mericans  so  cold  in  their  demeanour,  and  erroneously  re- 
gard their  particular  behaviour  to  themselves  as  the  result  of  a 
general  moodiness  and  reserve. 

It  is  obvious,  however,  that  to  retain  this  case  and  accessibility  of 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  127 

manner,  it  is  very  necessary  to  guard  the  equality  of  condition  wliich 
is  at  their  very  foundation.  Americans  are  all  equal,  not  only  in 
the  eye  of  the  law,  but  in  social  position,  there  being  no  rank  to 
which  one  man  is  born  and  from  which  another  is  excluded,  any 
nnore  than  there  is  political  status,  which,  instead  of  being  gained 
by  personal  etibrt,  is  a  mere  matter  of  inheritance.  In  European 
society,  the  superior  ranks  have  every  advantage  in  the  cultivation 
of  manner;  for  when  not  with  equals,  they  are  with  inferiors,  and 
thus  learn  ease  and  acquire  self-possession.  So  it  is  with  all  Ameri- 
cans, who  have  no  superiors  to  put,  by  their  presence,  an  awkward, 
constrained,  and  artificial  cast  upon  their  actions.  But  let  this  equa- 
lity of  condition  be  invaded,  and  let  a  distinct  class  arise  in  Ameri- 
ca, with  distinct  interests  and  views  of  its  own,  and  let  that  class 
take  form  and  obtain  an  orfianized  footing  in  the  community,  and 
the  natural  and  unaffected  manner,  which  marks  the  intercourse  of 
society  in  that  country,  will  give  place  to  the  artificial  traits  which 
indicate  its  European  manifestations;  and  against  this  danger  Ameri- 
can society  has  constantly  to  struggle.  It  is  diificult,  where  there  are 
vast  accumulations  of  wealth,  to  adhere  to  a  horizontal  scale  in  social 
conditions.  In  America  wealth  has  great  influence,  and  the  circle  of 
its  possessors  is  daily  being  enlarged,  a  stale  of  things  which  would 
bode  no  good  to  the  social  equilibrium,  were  it  not  for  the  presence 
of  other  and  counteracting  influences.  If  there  is  a  very  wealthy 
class  in  America,  there  is  not  a  very  poor  class,  by  whose  co-opera- 
tion tlie  wealthy  class  might  act  with  effect  upon  the  mass  intervening 
between  the  two  extremes.  Indeed,  so  far  as  competence  involves 
the  absence  of  poverty,  there  is  in  America  no  class  which  can  strictly 
be  denominated  poor  ;  that  is  to  say,  there  is  no  class  whose  condition 
is  incompatible  with  their  independence.  It  is  evident,  therefore, 
that  although  wealth  has  undoubtedly  its  influence,  and  invests  its 
possessor  with  a  certain  share  of  adventitious  consideration;  it  has, 
as  yet,  no  power  in  America  to  alter  the  essential  characteristic  of 
society — that  universal  equality  which  is  based  on  universal  indepen- 
dence. In  the  political  equality  of  the  people  is  also  to  be  found 
another  of  the  counteracting  influences  which  check  the  social  ten- 
dencies of  wealth.  In  the  grea  political  lottery  which  is  constantly 
being  drawn  in  America,  no  man,  however  rich,  can  tell  how  greatly 
he  may  be  benefited  by  another  man,  however  indifferent  may  be  his 
circumstances:  and,  indeed,  it  is  not  the  rich  who  have  there  the 
greatest  political  influence;  it  is  the  busy  busfling  politician,  who 
plunges  into  the  thick  of  the  fight,  and  works  his  way  to  the  influence 
which  he  covets,  at  the  expense  of  his  time,  his  convenience,  and 
often  his  better  feelings.  With  so  many,  and  frequently  such  rough 
competitors,  to  deal  with  in  the  political  race,  the  wealthy,  to  whom 
life  has  other  attractions,  retire  from  the  scramble,  leaving  the  x'wvi  in 
the  possession  of  the  energetic,  the  needy,  and   the  adventurous. 


128  THE   WESTERN  WORLD. 

Thus  it  is,  that  if  the  rich  man  has  a  political  object  of  his  own  to 
subserve,  he  cannot  aflbrd  to  lose  the  aid  of  his  less  wealthy  neighbour, 
but  frequently  more  influential  politician.     'I'he  consequence  is,  that 
between  the  political  footing  of  the  one  and  the  wealth  of  the  other, 
they  meet  on  neutral  ground,  where  they  tind  themselves  restored  to 
that  equality   which,  but    for  the  circumstances  in   which   they  are 
placed,  might  have  been  permanently  disturbed.     If,on  the  other  hand, 
the  ricli  man  has  no  selfish  object  in  view,  he  knows  not  how  soon 
his  poorer  neiglibour,  in  the  constant  fermentation  which  is  going  on 
around  him,  may  be  suddenly  thrown  into  a  political  position,  which 
gives  him  in  the  eye  of  wealth  fully  as  much  consideration  as  it  can 
draw  to  itself;   and   this  process  is  of  daily  occurrence  in  America. 
The  political  arena  is  tilled  with  those  wiio  plunge  into  it  from  the 
very  depths  of  society,  as  affording  them  a  shorter  road  to  conside- 
ration than  that  which  they  would  have  to  pursue  in  the  accumulation 
of  property.     Daily  accessions  being  made  to  the  wealthy  class  it- 
self, whilst  there  is  no  definite  section  of  society  from  which  it  is 
known  that  they  will  spring;  and  daily  transmutations  going  on  from 
obscurity  to  political  importance,  whilst  political  aspirations  are  limit- 
ed  to  no  class,  and  political  aid  may  be  received  from  an  individual, 
emanating  from  [he  humblest  sphere, — render  it  impossible,  without 
the  presence  of  a  poor  and  absolutely  dependent  class,  for  wealth,  at 
least  in  its  present  development,  to  over-ride  the  social  order  of  things 
established  in  America.     Keeping  this  in  view,  it  need  surprise  no 
one  to  find  a  free  and   unreserved  intercourse  subsisting  externally 
amongst  all  the  members  of  the  community.     The  man  of  leisure, 
the  professional   man,  and   the  merchant,  the  mechanic,  the  artisan, 
and   the  tradesman,  meet  each  other  on  equal  terms,  the  only  obsta- 
cle that  can  arise  between  them  being,  on  the  part  of  any  of  them, 
impropriety  of  behaviour  or  infamy  of  character.     So  long  as  the 
ballot-box  is  in  the  hands  of  those  with  whom  the  suffrage  is  univer- 
sal,  so  long  will  the   poorer  classes  have  it  in  their  power  to  check 
any  social  aberrations  in  the  more  wealthy,  should  the  latter  be  in- 
clined  to  substitute  for  the  general  easy  intercourse  which  prevails, 
an  exclusive  social  and  political  regime. 

The  reader  will  scarcely  have  to  be  told  that  all  this  is  applicable 
only  to  society  in  its  grander  and  more  comprehensive  sense.  It  has 
notliiuir  to  do  with  the  arrangements  of  the  parlour,  or  the  etiquette 
of  the  drawing-room.  It  is  not  society  in  its  purely  domestic  or  in- 
door character,  to  which  his  attention  has  been  drawn  ;  but  to  so- 
ciety in  its  o-eneral  and  out  door  sense,  to  the  nreat  social  life  of  the 
people  consideretl  as  a  people.  When  we  leave  the  national  survey 
lor  the  comparatively  insignificant  arena  of  fashionable  life,  we  find 
much  that  will  appear  excej)ti«»nal  to  what  has  been  here  said ;  but 
the  exceptions  arc;  mere  grafts  upon  the  crcat  social  trunk  which  we 
have  been  considering,  drawing  ihcir  life  and  n()uri:.-:hmeut  from  it, 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  129 

and  partaking  of  many  of  its  charactnristics,  instead  of  being  growths 
enianatini:  from  the  root,  and  typical  of  the  very  nature  of  the  tree. 
The  picture  just  considered,  if  it  possesses  no  very  strong  lights,  is 
devoid  of  deep  shadows  ;  but  that  wliich  1  am  now  about  to  sketcli, 
in  connexion  with  the  social  habits  of  the  people,  in  a  more  limited 
sense,  is  more  marked  with  differences,  if  not  replete  with  contrasts. 

It  may  as  well  here  be  premised  that,  in  America,  the  ladies  exer- 
cise an  undisputed  sway  over  the  domestic  hearth.  Home  is  their 
sphere,  and  to  them  all  the  arrangements  of  home  are  exclusively  left. 
In  many  respects,  this  is  the  case  in  every  civilized  society;  but  in 
Europe  the  family  is,  in  some  points,  as  much  under  the  control  of 
external  influences,  as  the  individual,  denying  to  those  who  manage 
the  household  that  perfect  freedom  of  action  w-hich  they  enjoy  in 
America.  Let  no  querulous  lady,  who  thinks  that  she  has  not  enough 
of  her  own  way,  imagine  that  this  implies,  on  the  part  of  her  more 
fortunate  American  sister,  an  absolute  immunity  from  marital  con- 
trol. Wives  in  America  know  their  place,  and  keep  it,  as  generally 
as  they  do  here,  although  how  far  that  may  be,  might  be  difficult  to 
tell.  But,  whilst  in  their  social  relations  they  are  less  fettered  by 
existing  institutions  than  European  women,  there  is  a  more  general 
abdication  in  their  favour,  on  the  part  of  husbands,  in  all  that  concerns 
the  domestic  arrangements  and  external  relations  of  the  family,  than 
is,  perhaps,  to  be  found  any  where  else. 

The  consequence  of  thiS'  is  curious  enough.  The  social  position 
of  the  husband  is  not  carried,  in  all  its  extent,  into  the  social  relations 
of  his  family.  His  sphere  of  action  is  without,  where  all  are  on  an 
equal  footing;  but  in  the  position  of  his  family,  and  in  their  inter- 
course with  those  of  his  neighbours,  he  finds  no  such  principle  very 
generally  recognised.  Equality  without — exclusiveness  within — such 
seem  to  be  the  contrasts  of  American  life.  The  professional  man 
may  be  on  the  very  best  of  terms  with  the  blacksmith,  but  ten  chances 
to  one  if  the  daughters  of  the  professional  man  know  the  blacksmith's 
daughters,  or  if  they  would  acknowledge  it  if  they  did.  In-door  life 
in  America  is  fenced  round  by  as  many  lines  as  social  life  in  Europe. 
There  is  not  a  community  there,  any  more  than  here,  but  has  its 
fashionable  quarter  and  its  fashionable  circle.  This  may  be  all  very 
natural,  but  it  is  not  in  conformity  with  the  general  aspect  of  their 
national  social  life,  that  they  carry  with  them  into  these  coteries  all 
the  exflusiveness  of  feelinor  which  forms  so  marked  a  feature  in  the 
social  fabrics  of  the  old  world.  In  a  widely  extended  country,  like 
the  transatlantic  republic,  and  a  widely  scattered  community,  like 
that  which  peoples  it,  it  is  to  be  expected  that  these  feelings  would 
manifest  themselves,  in  different  places,  in  very  different  degrees. 
In  some,  however,  they  assume  a  form  quite  as  inveterate  as  they  do 
with  ourselves;  and  young  ladies  will  turn  up  their  delicate  but  saucy 
noses  at  the  bare  idea  of  an  acquaintanceship  with  those,  with  whose 
fathers  or  brothers  their  own  fathers  or  brothers  may  be  on  terms  of 


130  THE  WESTERN   WORLD. 

the  most  perfect  familiarity.  The  circle  once  drawn,  it  is  not  very 
easy  for  those  without  to  transcend  it.  The  family  that  introduces  a 
new  member,  is  held  responsible  for  his  or  her  good  behaviour  and 
respectability  ;  and  it  is  not  always  that  the  countenance  of  a  particular 
family  will  suffice  to  give  a  party  the  free  range  of  the  favoured  cir- 
cle. 

In  great  communities,  where  the  circle  of  society  is  large,  and  the 
lines  have  been  long  drawn,  one  need  not  be  surprised  at  this,  the 
fashionables  finding:  within  their  own  circle  sufficient  sources  of  amuse- 
ment  and  gratification.  But  it  is  singular  to  witness  the  speedy  de- 
velopment of  the  feeling  in  a  new  community,  where  inequality  of 
circumstances  is  scarcely  yet  known;  where  all  are,  side  by  side, 
though  in  difTerent  w'ays,  perhaps,  equally  engaged  in  the  pursuit  of 
the  same  end.  Indeed,  it  is  in  these  communities  that  the  feeling  is 
generally  carried  to  its  most  ludicrous  extent;  society  in  the  older 
and  larger  cities  having  assumed  a  fixed  form,  in  which  each  family 
has  its  appropriate  place;  but  in  the  new  towns,  the  prize  of  social 
pre-eminence  being  yet  to  be  striven  for,  those  who  are  uppermost 
for  the  time  being,  assume  a  very  supercilious  attitude  to  those  below 
them.  It  is  in  these  matters  that  the  men  in  America  take  very  little 
part.  Whilst  they  are  engaged  providing  the  means,  the  mother  and 
the  daughters  are  using  them  in  working  the  family  into  its  true  posi- 
tion as  regards  society. 

The  exclusive  feature  of  American  society  is  no  where  brought  so 
broadly  out  as  it  is  in  the  city  of  Philadelphia.  It  is,  of  course, 
readily  discernible  in  Boston,  New  York,  and  Baltimore ;  but  the 
line  drawn  in  these  places  is  not  so  distinctive  or  so  difficult  to 
transcend  as  it  is  in  Philadelphia.  The  fashionables  there  are  more 
particular  in  their  inquiries,  than  are  their  neighbours,  before  they^ 
give  admittance  to  the  stranger  knocking  at  their  gates.  As  a  general 
rule,  an  unexceptionable  recommendation  is  all  that  is  necessary  in 
America  to  secure  the  stranger  a  ready  acceptance  by  those  to  whom 
he  is  presented.  The  presumptions  are  all  in  favour  of  his  fitness 
for  the  sphere  which  he  aspires  to  adorn.  To  this,  however, society 
in  Philadelphia  forms  the  most  notable  exception ;  a  recommendation 
there  only  operating  to  put  the  new  comer  on  his  probation,  and  if 
found  wanting,  his  recommendation  goes  for  no  more  than  it  is  worth; 
being  estimated  more  from  the  proved  qualities  of  the  party  receiving, 
than  from  the  standing  or  authority  of  the  party^  giving  it.  Once  ad- 
mitted, however,  society  in  Philadelphia  will  be  found  amply  to  com- 
pensate for  any  delays  and  uncertainties  with  which  the  preliminary 
ordeal  may  have  been  accompanied.  It  is  intellectual  without  being 
pedantic,  and  sprii^htly^  without  being  boisterous.  It  seems  to  be  a 
happy  blending  of  the  chief  characteristics  of  Boston  and  New  York 
society.  In  both  society  is  more  accessible  than  in  Philadelphia. 
In  Boston  the  nucleus  on  which  it  turns  is  the  literary  circle  of  the 


THE  "WESTERN  WORLD.  131 

place,  which,  comprising'  individuals  and  families  of  all  grades  of 
wealth, gives  to  society  there  a  more  democratic  cast  than  it  possesses 
either  in  New  York  or  Philadelphia.     It  must  be  confessed,  how- 
ever, that  there  is  a  literary  affectation  about  it,  which  is  easier  to  be 
accounted  for  than  endured,  Bostonians  always  appearing  to  best 
advantage  when  they  are  farthest  from  home.     In  New  York,  again, 
the  commercial  spirit  predominates  over  every  other,  and  largely 
infuses  itself  into  the  society  of  the  city.     There  is  a  permanent 
class  of  wealthy  residents,  who  form  the  centre  of  it;  its  great  bulk 
being  composed  of  those  who,  by  themselves  or  friends,  are  still  ac- 
tively engaged  in  the  pursuits  of  commerce.     With  a  few  exceptions 
it  is,  therefore,  in  a  state  of  constant  fluctuation,  in  accordance  with 
the  fluctuating  fortunes  of  commercial  life.     Its  doors  are  guarded, 
but  they  seem  never  to  be  closed,  and  you  have  a  constant  stream 
flowing  in  and  out.     The  consequence  is,  that  there  is  much  more 
heart  than  refinement  about  it.     It  is  gay  to  a  degree,  sprightly  and 
cordial,  but  far  less  conventional  than  the  corresponding  circle  in 
Philadelphia.     Society  in  the  latter  has  all  the  advantages  incident 
to  a  large  community,  in  which  the  commercial  spirit  does  not  over- 
bear every  thing  else, and  in  which  literature  is  cultivated  as  an  orna- 
ment, more  than  pursued  as  a  business.     In  their  habitual  inter- 
course with  each  other  the  Philadelphians  have  an  ease  of  manner 
which  is    perfectly  charming.     They  are    familiar  without  being 
coarse.     It  is  not  until  the  stranger  gets  upon  the  footing  of  being 
thus  treated  by  them,  that  he  begins  to  appreciate  the  real  pleasures 
of  Philadelphia  life.     It  is  only  after  he  has  surmounted  the  barrier 
of  formalism  which  encounters  him  on  his  first  entrance,  that  he  be- 
comes aware  of  the  genial  and  kindly  spirit  that  pervades  the  circle 
to  which  he  is  introduced.     In  many  respects,  Philadelphia  life  is 
the  best  counterpart  which  America  affords  to  the  social  refinements 
of  Europe,  Avhilst  it  has  at  bottom  a  warmth  and  cordiality,  the 
manifestation  of  which  is  not  always  compatible  with  the  exigencies 
of  European  etiquette. 

In  a  social  point  of  view,  there  is  this  difference  in  America  be- 
tween the  north  and  the  south ;  that  in  the  former,  society,  in  its 
narrower  sense,  takes  its  chief  development  in  towns,  whereas,  in 
the  latter,  it  is  more  generally  confined  to  the  rural  districts.  This 
difference  is  chiefly  attributable  to  the  different  systems  which  obtain 
in  the  distribution  of  property,  and  to  other  causes,  social  and  po- 
litical, which  will  be  presently  adverted  to.  As  a  general  rule,  in 
the  north  and  west  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a  country  society,  in 
the  ordinary  acceptation  of  the  term.  The  land  is  divided  into  small 
lots,  each  man,  generally  speaking,  occupying  only  as  much  as  he 
can  cultivate.  The  whole  country  is  thus  divided  into  farms;  there 
are  few  or  no  estates.  The  rural  population  is  almost,  without  ex- 
ception, a  working  population,  with  little  leisure,  if  they  had  other- 


132  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

wise  the  means,  to  cultivate  the  graces  of  life.  As  you  travel  througti 
the  country  you  see  multitudes  of  comfortable  houses  and  good  farm- 
ing establishments,  but  no  mansions.  There  is  not,  in  fact,  such  a 
class  in  existence  there  as  is  here  known  as  the  country  gentry* 
A  more  unpromising  set  of  materials  from  which  to  construct  an 
elegant  social  fabric,  can  scarcely  be  conceived  than  these  northern 
and  western  farmers.  The  following  incident  will  illustrate  the 
wliole  class.  I  was  acquainted  with  a  farmer  in  Western  New 
York,  who  was  lucky  enough  to  stumble  upon  a  piece  of  land  with 
a  good  "water  privilege,"  which  he  soon  turned  to  account,  and  be- 
came the  "jolly  miller"  of  the  surrounding  district.  By  means  of 
his  mill,  he  amassed  what,  for  one  in  his  condition,  was  a  conside- 
rable fortune;  and,  at  the  instigation  of  his  wife,  wiio  was  fonder  of 
show  than  her  husband  was,  turned  some  of  it  to  account  in  building 
a  handsome  two-story  stone  house,  in  contact  with  the  unpretending 
wooden  one,  wliich  they  had  inhabited  for  years.  It  was  not,  how- 
ever, until  the  house  had  been  built  that  they  discovered  that  they 
had  no  use  for  it.  When  I  knew  them,  and  it  had  then  been  built 
five  years,  but  two  rooms  in  the  v/hole  house  were  furnished, — a 
parlour  for  great  occasions,  and  a  "spare  bed-room;"  the  family 
continuing  to  eat,  drink,  and  sleep  in  the  old  wooden  building,  to 
which  they  had  been  accustomed,  and  which  stdl  remained  as  a  wing 
to  the  new  house,  which  was  seldom  or  ever  made  any  use  of.  And 
so  it  is  with  most  of  them.  Their  habits  are  those  of  industry  and 
frugality,  predisposing  them  neither  for  fine  houses,  fine  clothes, 
nor  fine  equipages.  It  is  quite  true  that  many  of  them  do  move  into 
their  "new  houses,"  but  they  bring  all  the  tastes  and  habits  of  the 
old  house  with  them,  and  alter  their  condition  but  little  by  the 
change.  Such  is  the  phase  which  rural  life  presents  in  the  north 
and  west,  with  a  few  slight  exceptions,  such  as  are  to  be  found  in 
the  upper  portion  of  the  Genesee  Valley,  along  that  of  the  Mohawk, 
and  by  the  shores  of  the  Hudson  in  New  York,  where  some  fami- 
lies have  accumulated  in  their  hands  large  properties,  and  live  in  a 
style  which  presents  a  marked  contrast  to  the  rural  life  around 
them. 

In  the  south,  on  the  other  hand,  things  assume  a  very  different 
aspect.  In  the  States  of  Maryland,  Virginia,  the  two  Carolinas, 
Georgia,  and  Florida,  as  indeed  in  all  the  Southern  States,  land  is 
possessed,  as  with  us,  in  larger  quantities;  the  owners,  as  in  Eng- 
land, generally  living  on  their  estates.  It  is  thus  that,  although  Bal- 
timore has  its  social  circle,  the  chief  society  in  Maryland  is  to  be 
found  in  the  counties;  whilst,  in  the  same  way,  the  capital  of  Vir- 
ginia affords  but  a  faint  type  of  the  society  of  the  State.  In  the  ru- 
ral life  of  these  two  States,  and  in  that  of  South  Carolina,  are  to  be 
found  many  of  the  ha])its  and  predilections  of  colonial  times,  and  a 
nearer  approach  to  English  country  life  than  is  discernible  in  any 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  133 

other  portion  of  the  republic.  The  country  is  divided  into  large 
plantations,  containing,  in  many  instances,  many  thousands  of  acres ; 
on  which  reside  the  different  families,  in  large  and  commodious 
mansion-houses,  surrounded  by  multitudes  of  slaves  and  by  all  the 
appliances  of  rural  luxury.  It  is  thus  that,  removed  as  they  are 
from  the  necessity  of  labour,  and  being  interrupted  in  their  retirement 
only  by  the  occasional  visits  of  their  friends  and  neighbours,  the  op- 
portunity is  afforded  them  of  cultivating  all  those  social  qualities 
which  enter  into  our  estimate  of  a  country  gentry.  In  the  society 
of  the  Southern  Adantic  States,  but  particularly  in  that  of  the  three 
last  mentioned,  there  is  a  purity  of  tone  and  an  elevation  of  sentiment, 
together  with  an  ease  of  manner  and  a  general  social  applomb,  which 
are  only  to  be  found  united  in  a  truly  leisure  class.  Any  general 
picture  of  American  society  would  be  very  incomplete,  into  which 
was  not  prominently  introduced  the  phase  which  it  exhibits  in  the 
rural  life  of  the  South. 

In  some  instances,  American  society  is  broken  into  subsidiary  di- 
visions through  the  influence  of  relig-ion.  I  do  not  here  allude  to 
the  effect  which  sect  has  in  this  respect,  and  which  is  in  some  places 
so  powerful  as  virtually  to  establish  a  system  of  mutual  non-inter- 
course. The  division  referred  to  is  more  into  congregations  than 
sects ;  the  frequenters  of  particular  places  of  worship  having  fre- 
quently little  or  no  social  intercommunication  with  those  of  others, 
even  when  they  belong  to  the  same  denomination.  The  odium 
theolo ^icum  has  nothing  to  do  with  this,  nor  would,  probably,  any 
such  social  division  exist,  especially  between  members  of  the  same 
denomination,  but  for  the  frequency  with  which  their  religious  duties 
bring  the  members  of  each  church  together.  Between  Prayer  meet- 
ings, and  Bible  Society  meetings,  and  Dorcas  Society  meetings,  and 
Sunday  School  Teachers'  meetings,  nearly  every  night  in  the  week, 
in  addition  to  Sunday,  sees  them  brought  together, — a  constancy  of 
association,  which  soon  induces  them  to  regard  all  beyond  their  own 
number  with  a  feeling  of  indifference.  The  Dorcas  Societies,  in 
particular,  are  great  favourites  with  the  ladies  more  religiously  in- 
clined, seasoning,  as  they  do,  a  bit  of  this  world's  enjoyment  with 
the  simultaneous  performance  of  the  obligations  of  charity.  The 
ladies  of  a  congregation,  married  and  expectant,  the  latter  generally 
predominating,  meet  in  rotation  at  their  respective  houses  at  an  early 
hour  in  the  afternoon;  sew  away  industriously  by  themselves  until 
evening,  Avhen  the  young  gendemen  are  introduced  with  the  tea  and 
coffee;  whereupon  work  is  suspended,  and  a  snug  little  party  is  the 
hebdomadal  consequence,  characterized  by  a  good  deal  of  flirtation, 
and  closed  by  prayer:  the  young  men  afterwards  escorting  the  young 
ladies  home,  and  taking  leave  of  them,  to  meet  them  again  next  week 
under  the  same  happy  circumstances. 

Bitter  as  party  feeling  frequently  is  hi  the  United  States,  it  is  sel- 
VOL.  1. — 12 


134  THE  WESTERN  \VORLD. 

dom  permitted  very  materially  to  influence  the  relations  of  society. 
Not  that  the  ladies  eschew  politics,  but  they  do  not  refuse  to  com- 
mingle on  that  account;  nor  will  they  permit  the  political  disputes 
of  their  male  relations  to  disturb  the  arrang-ements  which  they  have 
made  for  themselves.  Fathers,  brothers,  and  husbands,  may  tear 
each  other's  eyes  out  at  their  political  tournaments;  but  wives,  sis- 
ters, and  daughters  meet  each  other  in  friendly  intercourse  as  before 
— gathered  under  the  same  roof,  singing  the  same  songs,  and  gig- 
gling at  the  same  nonsense.  Sensible,  this,  as  compared  with  the 
ridiculous  extent  to  which  party  hostility  has  been  carried  in  the 
neighbouring  province  of  Canada,  where  those  on  opposite  sides^ 
and  all  connected  with  them,  have  not  only  refused  to  associate  but 
actually  even  to  deal  with  each  other. 

There  is  no  feature  common  to  all  the  departments  of  American 
society,  which  will  so  soon  impress  itself  upon  the  stranger  as  the 
prominent  position  occupied  in  it  by  the  young  ladies.  In  Europe, 
if  they  are  not  kept  there,  they  at  least  remain  somewhat  in  the 
back-ground.  In  America,  on  the  other  hand,  they  are  in  the  fore- 
most rank,  and  in  fact  constitute  the  all  in  all.  Cards  of  invitation 
are  frequently  issued  in  their  names — it  being  often  "The  Misses 
So-and-so"  who  invite,  instead  of  "Mr.  and  Mrs.  So-and-so."  The 
mother  is  invariably  eclipsed  by  her  daughters.  Indeed,  I  have 
known  instances  in  which  parties  were  given,  at  which  she  never 
made  her  appearance;  the  whole  being  done  with  her  concurrence 
and  assistance,  but  she  keeping  back  from  a  participation  in  the  pre- 
vailing gaiety — -just  because  she  has  no  inclination  to  join  in  it,  pru- 
dently judging — wise  woman! — that  her  time  for  such  frivolities  is 
past.  The  young  ladies  take  the  whole  burden  of  the  matter  upon 
themselves — receive  the  guests,  and  do  all  the  honours  of  the  house. 
The  absent  mamma  has  her  health  frequently  inquired  for,  but  no- 
body ever  thinks  of  wondering  that  she  is  not  present.  She  is  per- 
haps all  die  time  in  an  adjoining  room,  superintending  the  arrange- 
ment of  the  comestibles.  She  re<jards  the  whole  as  the  vounof  ladies'' 
doing,  and  leaves  them  to  work  their  way  out  of  it  the  best  way  they 
can.  And  very  well  they  generally  manage  to  do  so — the  oppor- 
tunity which  it  affords  them  of  cultivating  the  virtue  of  self-reliance 
being  by  no  means  thrown  away.  The  young  gentlemen,  in  making 
visits  too,  may  ask  at  the  door  for  the  lady  of  the  house,  but  such 
considerateness  is  a  piece  of  pure  supererogation,  the  young  ladies 
being  the  parties  generally  called  on,  and  frequently  the  only  parties 
seen,  if  not  the  only  parties  asked  for.  Nor  is  a  long  acquaintance- 
ship necessary  to  establish  this  footing  of  pleasant  familiarity.  You 
are  introduced  at  a  party  to  a  young  lady,  dance  with  her,  talk  a  little, 
and,  if  she  is  at  all  pleased  with  you,  the  chances  are  all  in  favour 
of  your  being  invited  to  call  upon  her — but  by  the  somewhat  guarded 
phraseology  that  "we"  and  not  "she"  will  be  very  happy  to  sec 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  13o 

you.     It  is  your  own  fault  if,  from  tliat  moment,  yoJj^ro  not  on 
intimate  and  friendly  terms  with  her.  wT 

Atrreeable  as  all  this  may  be  in  some  respects,  it  has  very  serious 
disadvantages  in  others.  It  imparts  to  society  a  general  air  of  frivo- 
lity with  which  it  could  favourably  dispense.  When  pert  young 
misses  of  sixteen  take  it  all  into  their  own  hands,  what  else  could  be 
expected?  iVot  that  all  young  ladies  in  America  remain  at  sixteen, 
either  in  conduct  or  in  years;  but  the  younger  portion  of  them  just 
iidmitted  into  society  make  themselves  more  or  less  the  pivot  on 
which  it  turns.  A  young  girl  lives  a  life  of  great  seclusion  until  she 
does  come  out,  but,  having  an  occasional  peep  at  the  conduct  of  her 
elder  sisters  or  friends,  her  mind  is  made  up  as  to  the  part  she  is  to 
act  before  she  is  formally  ushered  into  the  arena.  With  the  excep- 
tion of  sonie  of  \he  more  refined  and  intellectual  circles  of  the  large 
towns,  it  is  sometimes  painful  to  witness  the  frivolous  character  of 
an  American  social  assembly.  There  is  no  repose,  nothing  of  a 
subdued  tone  about  it.  The  few  whose  refinements  and  tastes 
would  favourably  influence  it,  if  permitted  to  do  so,  are  overborne 
by  the  numbers  as  well  as  by  the  forv/ardness  of  those  who  impress 
it  with  their  own  immaturities.  Society  in  America  is  thus  like  a 
young  hoyden  that  wants  taming — like  an  inexperienced  romp,  as 
yet  impatient  of  the  fetters  of  conventional  propriety.  The  difficulty 
is,  that  the  remedy  for  this  does  not  seem  very  near  at  hand,  for  the 
young  blood  w^hich  influences  society  to-day  will  be  superseded  by 
that  of  to-morrow.  American  society  is  thus  deprived  of  the  best  of 
all  teachers — experience;  for,  by  the  time  that  a  lady  learns  how-to 
act  an  easy  and  more  subdued  part,  there  is  no  prominent  place  for 
her  in  the  social  circle. 

The  consequence  of  this  is,  that  both  men  and  women  of  intellec- 
tual tastes  and  quiet  habits  wididraw  more  or  less  from  society  alto- 
gether. It  is  seldom,  therefore,  that  conversation  in  a  social  assem- 
bly takes  a  sober,  rational  turn.  Dreary  common-places,  jokes  and 
vapid  compliments,  form  the  staple  of  conversation,  all  v/hich  is 
attended  by  a  never-ceasing  accompaniment  of  laughter,  vvhich  is 
frequenfly  too  boisterous  for  all  tastes.  Such  being  its  prominent 
characteristics  on  the  female  side,  the  picture  does  not  improve  when 
we  examine  the  part  borne  in  it  by  the  men.  It  is  seldom  that  one 
ever  sees  the  generality  of  men  rise  above  the  level  of  their  female 
acquaintances,  either  in  intellectual  culture  or  social  refinement. 
In  all  civilized  communities,  women  have,  in  this  respect,  much  in 
their  power.  It  is  for  them  to  select  their  own  associates;  and  such 
as  aspire  to  their  intimacy  will  be  careful  to  possess  themselves  of  all 
those  qualifications  w-hich  are  made  indispensable  to  its  enjoyment. 
In  American  society,  the  really  intellectual  man  holds  a  position  of 
comparative  isolation.  To  take  his  part  wifli  the  rest,  or  to  be  tole- 
rable in  their  sight,  he  must  be-little  himself  to  the  social  standard 


loG  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

adhoredjto  by  lliose  around  liim.  The  great  proportion  of  the  young; 
men  wlio  iVequenl  the  social  circle,  if  any  tiling,  fall  within,  than  exceed 
this  standard.  Indeed,  it  could  scarcely  be  otherwise,  when  we  con- 
sider how  alien  are  their  common  pursuits  to  the  acquisition  of  those 
hio-her  qualities  which  shine  so  prominendy  in  the  social  arena  else- 
Avhere,  and  liow  little  is  really  required  of  them  to  come  up  to  the 
mark  in  the  estimation  of  those  with  whom  they  associate.  A 
good  command  of  common-places,  with  a  large  stock  of  the  "small 
change"  of  conversation,  will  do  far  more  for  a  man  in  American 
society,  generally  considered,  than  the  possession  of  higher  qualifi- 
cations will  accomplish  for  him.  The  Americans  certainly  worsliip 
talent,  and  hold  in  high  esteem  the  man  of  great  intellectual  acquire- 
ment; but  they  generally  prefer  reverencing  him  at  a  distance  to 
coming  in  close  contact  with  him;  at  all  events,  if  he  takes  any 
share  in  their  reunions,  he  is  more  acceptable  w^hen  he  leaves  his 
distinctive  qualities  behind  him.  I  have  seen  grave  senators,  who 
understood  this  well,  cut  the  most  ludicrous  figures,  in  attempting  to 
render  themselves  agreeable  to  giggling  young  misses,  who  made 
very  little  ceremony  with  them.  Some  of  them  succeed  well  in  the 
process  of  intellectual  descent,  particularly  those  who  have  no  very 
great  distance  to  descend.  But  others  find  their  attempts  mere 
caricatures  on  frivolity,  and,  after  a  few  awkward  endeavours  to 
accord  with  circumstances,  very  frequendy  withdraw  altogether  from 
<^ircles,  to  the  requirements  of  which  they  cannot  conform  them- 
selves. 

There  is  no  other  country  within  the  pale  of  civilization,  where 
women  might  effect  so  much  by  elevating  the  social  standard.  As  a 
general  rule,  the  men  in  America  fall  far  short  of  the  women  in  intel- 
lectual culture  and  moral  refinement.  Most  of  them  enter  upon  the 
walks  of  business  at  an  early  age,  before  the  character  is  formed  or 
the  tastes  are  well  disciplined.  The  unremitting  attention  which 
they  pay  to  business  ever  afterwards  precludes  them  from,  if  it  does 
not  indispose  them  to,  making  any  efl^'ort  at  improvement;  and 
society,  exacting  no  very  high  standard  of  excellence  from  them, 
wears  a  rough  garb,  and  what  is  worse,  exhibits  an  unprogressive 
aspect.  If  the  better  educated  and  the  more  intellectual  class  of 
women  in  America  would  play  a  more  prominent  part  tiian  they  do 
in  the  social  circles  of  their  country,  the  happiest  results  would 
accrue.  But  they  shrink  IVom  the  task,  deeming  it  hopeless  on  a 
comparison  of  the  means  with  the  end,  and  content  themselves  with 
vainlv  regretting  the  unintellectual  mould  in  which  society  around 
them  is  cast.  I  have  heard  many  women  of  superior  acquirement 
deplore  this  state  of  things,  when  they  contrasted  the  dreary  monotony 
of  society  in  their  own  country  with  the  happy  combination  of  fea- 
tures which  distinguishes  many  of  the  social  circles  of  Europe.  In 
confining  themselves  to  these  vain  regrets,  they  under-cstimate  their 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  137 

own  power.  They  could  do  mucli  to  improve  the  aspect  of  tilings 
around  them,  by  united  and  persevering  efibrt.  But  before  any  t]iiii<r 
can  be  effected  in  tliis  desirable  direction,  tliey  must  put  some  check 
upon  the  absolute  social  sway  of  young  ladies  in  their  teens.  They 
must  cripple  the  now  unbounded  influence  of  youth,  inexperience, 
and  thoughtlessness;  and  make  discipline,  setded  character,  and 
knowledge  of  the  world,  the  pivots  on  which  society  should  turn. 
The  matron  must,  at  least,  divide  the  sway  v/ith  the  giddy-headed 
girl,  or  it  will  be  vain  to  expect  that  society  in  America  will  be 
speedily  rescued  from  the  tyranny  of  frivolity  to  which  it  is  at  pre- 
sent subjected. 

Another  feature  in  American  society,  which  soon  excites  the  sur- 
prise of  the  stranger,  but  which  is,  in  fact,  a  mere  illustration  of  the 
foregoing,  is  the  litde  attention  which  is  paid  in  the  social  circle  to 
married  women.  She  may  be  young,  beautiful,  and  accomplished 
to  a  degree,  and  may,  indeed,  but  yesterday,  have  been  the  reigning 
belle,  but,  despite  of  all  this,  from  the  moment  that  she  submits  to 
the  matrimonial  tie,  the  American  woman  is,  socially  speaking,  as 
the  common  phrase  is,  "laid  on  the  shelf."  From  habit  and  old 
associations  she  may  for  a  while  make  her  appearance  in  company, 
but  at  longer  and  longer  intervals,  until,  after  a  very  short  time,  in 
the  great  majority  of  eases,  she  disappears  altogether,  only  again  to 
cross  the  threshold  of  society  when  her  taste  for  its  enjoyments  is 
blunted,  v/hen  her  cheek  is  faded  and  her  youth  gone,  and  when 
she  has  daughters  of  her  own  to  introduce.  Whilst  the  young  ladies 
engross  all  attention  to  themselves,  the  married  ones  sit  neglected  in 
the  corners,  despite  the  superiority  which  they  may  sometimes  pos- 
sess, both  in  personal  charms  and  mental  accomplishment. 

Many  of  the  peculiarities  of  American  society  can  be  directly 
iraced  to  the  education  of  young  v/omen  in  the  tFnited  States — by 
which  I  do  not  mean  the  system  of  teaching  adopted  in  schools,  so 
much  as  the  moral  and  social  discipline  v/hich  they  undergo.  A 
freedom  of  manner,  and  a  liberty  of  action,  are  extended  to  them, 
very  different  from  the  strict  and  vigilant  guard  which  is  kept  over 
young  women  in  the  older  hemisphere;  and  which  seems  to  be  but 
a  necessary  corollary  from  the  political  order  of  things  in  America. 
In  a  country  where  there  are  so  few  conventional  restraints,  and 
where  the  very  institutions  of  society  give  rise  to  great  latitude  of 
action  and  freedom  of  intercourse,  more  depends  upon  individual 
character,  than  in  communities  w^here  the  conduct  of  parties  is  more 
regulated  by  the  rules  and  the  machinery  of  class.  A  young  girl  in 
America  is  in  every  v/ay  a  freer  agent  than  ])er  European  sister: 
the  whole  course  of  her  education  is  one  habitual  lesson  of  self-re- 
liance— the  world  is  not  kept  a  sealed  book  to  her  until  she  is  tole- 
rably advanced  in  years,  then  to  be  suddenly  thrown  open  to  her  in 
all  its  diversity  of  aspects.     From  the  earliest  age  she  begins  to 

1  '•» 


138  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

understand  licr  position,  and  to  test  her  own  strength — she  soon 
knows  how  to  appreciate  the  world,  both  as  to  its  proprieties  and  its 
dangers — slie  knows  liow  far  she  can  go  in  any  direction  with  safety, 
and  how  far  she  can  let  others  proceed — she  soon  acquires  a  strength 
of  character,  to  wliicli  tlie  young  woman  of  Europe  is  a  stranger,  and 
acts  for  herself  whilst  the  latter  is  yet  in  leading-strings.  All  this 
would  tend,  were  her  entrance  into  society  a  little  longer  delayed, 
or  were  the  sway  which  she  acquires  over  it  somewhat  postponed, 
to  impart  a  much  more  sedate  and  serious  character  to  American 
social  intercourse  than  it  possesses.  It  is  this  very  freedom  of  ac- 
tion that  precipitates  her  into  an  influential  social  position,  at  a  time 
■when  she  is  neither  fitted  for  it  nor  able  fully  to  appreciate  its  re- 
sponsibilities. Her  course  of  education  tells  unfavourably  upon 
society,  before  it  has  fully  succeeded  in  telling  favourably  upon  ihc 
individual — by  which  time,  as  already  intimated,  in  nine  cases  out 
of  ten,  her  influence  over  the  social  regime  is  gone.  The  order  of 
things  around  her  exposes  her  to  more  dangers  than  the  young  girl 
in  Europe  has  to  encounter,  but  she  acquires  strength  of  character 
to  meet  them.  The  whole  tendency  of  her  education,  whilst  it  is 
attended  with  some  risks,  is  to  unveil  these  dangers  to  her,  and  to 
arm  her  against  their  approaches.  How  far  this  may  strengthen  the 
character  at  the  expense  of  the  afiections — how  far  it  may  fortify 
the  judgment,  but  weaken  the  heart — it  is  not  necessary  here  to  in- 
quire. 

The  latitude  of  action  here  referred  to,  necessarily  involves  a  free 
and  habitual  intercourse  between  the  sexes.  This  is  permitted  from 
the  very  earliest  ages,  and  never  ceases  until  the  young  girl  has  left 
her  father's  house  for  that  of  her  husband.  The  freedom  thus  ex- 
tended is  one  which  is  seldom  abused  in  America,  and  is  more  an 
essential  feature  than  an  accidental  circumstance  in  a  young  woman's 
education.  The  young  man  invites  her  to  walk  or  ride  with  him, 
and  her  compliance  with  the  invitation  is  a  matter  solely  dependent 
upon  her  own  humour;  he  escorts  her  to  the  concert,  or  home  from 
the  party,  the  rest  of  the  family  finding  their  way  thither  or  returning 
liome  ^s  they  may:  indeed,  I  have  known  the  young  ladies  of  the 
same  family  escorted  by  their  male  acquaintances  in  difierent  vehicles 
to  the  same  party,  where  they  Avould  make  tlicir  appearance,  per- 
liaps,  at  different  times.  Nor  is  this  confined  to  cases  in  which  the 
young  men  are  recognised  admirers  of  the  young  ladies,  a  friendly 
intimacy  being  all  that  is  required  to  justify  invitation  on  the  one 
side,  and  compliance  on  the  other.  A  young  woman  here  would 
regard  such  conduct  as  a  disregard  of  the  proprieties  of  her  sex ; 
if  it  were  looked  upon  as  such  in  America,  it  would  not  be  followed. 
The  difi'erence  arises  from  tlie  different  views  taken  in  the  two 
liemispheres,  by  young  women,  of  tiieir  actual  position.  In  Ame- 
rica it  neither   impairs  the  virtue,  nor  compromises  the  ihgnity  of 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  139 

the  sex.  It  may  be  somewhat  inimical  to  that  warmth  of  imagina- 
tion, and  delicacy  of  character,  which,  in  Europe,  is  so  much  admired 
in  the  young  woman,  but  it  is  productive  of  impurity  neither  in 
thouMit  nor  conduct. 

That  such  is  the  case,  no  stronger  proof  can  be  given  than  the 
almost  Quixotic  devotion  which  the  Americans  pay  to  the  sex.  The 
attention  which  they  receive  at  home  and  abroad,  in  the  drawing- 
room,  in  the  railway-carriage,  or  on  board  the  steamer,  instead  of 
resulting  from  familiarity,  is  dictated  by  the  highest  respect ;  for 
whilst  the  young  woman  in  America  is  learning  the  realities  of  her 
own  position,  she  acquires  a  knowledge  of  that  of  her  companions, 
and  knows  how  to  keep  them  in  it. 

This  will  not  seem  to  accord  with  the  impression,  which  is  so 
general  here,  of  the  overdone  prudery  of  the  American  women. 
They  are  as  ready  as  any  of  their  sex  to  resent  a  real  indignity ; 
but  nothing  could  be  more  erroneous  than  to  suppose  that  they 
carry  their  regard  for  delicacy  so  far  as  to  bespeak  a  real  impurity 
of  imagination.  That  in  some  parts  of  the  country  an  over  sensitive- 
ness in  this  respect  exists,  is  not  to  be  denied ;  but  it  is  confined 
to  certain  localities,  where  it  is  directly  attributable  to  circum- 
stances, which  have  had  no  existence  in  others.  It  may  yet  be 
traced,  to  a  certain  extent,  amongst  the  descendants  of  the  Puritans; 
but  even  amongst  them,  not  in  that  degree  in  which  some  writers 
have  improperly  left  it  to  be  inferred  that  it  is  a  general  character- 
istic. If  there  is  any  difference  between  American  and  European 
women  in  this  respect,  the  latter,  as  a  general  rule,  are  the  more 
liable  to  the  charge;  the  former  often  conversing  upon  subjects  on 
Avhich  the  latter  would  be  backward  in  touching,  witli  an  unreserve 
which  bespeaks  the  absence  of  all  improper  thought  or  motive. 

For  several  years  past,  the  town  of  Newport  in  Rhode  Island 
has  been  the  most  fashionable  sea-bathing  place  in  the  country.  I 
once  spent  a  fortnight  there  during  the  season.  The  very  first  day 
I  was  there,  whilst  strolling  with  a  friend  on  the  beach,  we  met  a 
party  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  with  whom  he  was  acquainted,  and 
to  whom  he  immediately  introduced  me.  After  conversing  for  a 
short  time,  I  was  surprised  at  a  proposition  made  to  us  by  one  of 
the  young  ladies  to  go  and  bathe  with  them.  I  afterwards  found 
that  this  was  no  uncommon  occurrence  at  Newport — the  ladies  and 
gentlemen  having  different  accommodations,  in  which  they  provided 
themselves  with  suitable  bathing  dresses,  habited  in  which,  tliey 
dash  out,  hand  in  hand,  sometimes  forty  of  them  together,  into  the 
surf  upon  the  beach.  I  confess  I  thought  this  more  in  accordance 
with  the  social  habits  of  Paris  and  Vienna  than  witli  those  of  the 
United  States.  There  was  in  it  a  latitude  which  was  no  more 
typical  of  the  general  habits  of  the  people  than  is  the  prudery, 
which  is,  in  some  instances,  carried  to  an  excess.     Indeed  these 


140  THE  WESTKRN  WORLD. 

may  be  regarded  as  tlie  two  extremes,  between  wliieh  are  to  be 
found  the  real  sentiments  and  true  habits  of  the  people.  The  error 
lies  in  that  summary  process  of  generalization,  which  extends, 
without  inquiry,  to  all,  the  peculiarities  which  are  observable  in  a 
few. 

The  precocious  age  at  which  marriages  frequendy  take  place  in 
America,  has  also  occasionally  its  visible  effect  upon  society.     It 
appears  ridiculous  to  those  accustomed  to  the  order  of  things  on  this 
side  of  the  Atlantic,  to  see  the  boy  and  girl,  as  yet  apparently  un- 
fitted for  final  emancipation  from  the  boarding-school,  assume  with 
the  utmost  nonchalance  the  conjugal  responsibilities.     In  a  new 
country,  where  every  one  has  plenty  of  room,  and  where  energy 
and  industry  are  sure  at  once  to  command  a  competence,  early 
marriages  are  not  only  allowable,  but  in  some  cases  desirable.     The 
relationship,  which,  in  a  crowded  community  like  this,  may  weigh 
like  a  millstone  about  a  young  man's  neck,  is  found  in  America  to 
be  frequently  the  spur  to  enterprise,  when  enterprise  is  all  that  is  ne- 
cessary to  ensure  success.    But  this  does  not  justify  marriages  at  ages 
at  which  even  the  precocity  of  America  does  not  ensure  maturity  of 
judgment  or  character.     Were  the  infant  couples,  which  one  every 
where  meets  with,  to  settle  down  into  domestic  habits,  beyond  occa- 
sionally finding  out  that  they  had  made  a  mutual  mistake,  the  mischief 
might  not  extend.     But  in  a  great  many  such  cases,  marriage  does 
not  result  in  immediate  domesticity.     The  connexion  is  formed  be- 
fore either  party  can  become  at  once  reconciled  to  the  cares  and 
troubles  of  housekeeping.     Hence  it  often  happens  that  these  never 
enter  into  the  calculations  of  a  young  couple  contemplating  mat- 
rimony.    It  is  to  the  hotel  they  look,  not  to  the  domestic  hearth, 
as  their  immediate  home,  after  the  ceremony  is  performed.     The 
American   towns,  the   larger   ones   particularly,  are  studded  with 
hotels,  half  the  support  of  which  is  derived  from  permanent  boarders, 
who  generally  consist  of  newly-married  parties,  who  are  anxious 
as  long  as  possible  to  postpone  the  disagreeable  duty  of  keeping  a 
house  for  themselves.     There  is  somethino;  excitinof  about  this  hotel 
life,  which  is  pleasant  to  the  young  woman,  inasmuch  as  it  leaves 
her  much  of  the  freedom  which  she  possessed  before  she  came 
under  the  nuptial  obligations.     It  gives  her  no  trouble,  and  causes 
her  no  anxiety;  there  being  an  al)undancc  of  servants  always  about 
her  to  do  her  bidding,  and  the  table  to  which  she  daily  sits  down 
being  both  elegant  and  sumptuous.     All  this  is  ver}'  diflercnt  from 
the  comparatively  tranquil  and  secluded  life  Avliich  an   American 
wife  leads  in   her   husband's    home — a  life,  the  contemplation  of 
whi(!li  is  disagreeable  to  her  who  has  become  the  wife  ere  slie  was 
yet  fairly  the  young  woman.     She  breakfasts  with  her  husl)and  in 
the  "ladies'  ordinary,"   at    which    a  large    and    mixed    company 
assem])le;  after  which  she  is  left  alone  till  dinner  time,  when  her 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  141 

liusband,  who  has  been  at  his  business,  returns  and  dines  with  her 
in  the  same  company  as  l)crore.  lie  then  leaves  her  again,  and 
does  not  return  till  evening,  and  sometimes  not  till  a  late  hour. 
During  his  absence  she  is  left  to  her  own  resources,  and  inexperi- 
enced as  she  often  is,  must  be  thus  exposed  to  many  risks.  A 
stranger  or  traveller,  in  passing  to  or  from  his  own  room,  along 
the  lobbies  of  his  hotel,  if  he  chances  to  look  in  at  any  of  the  open 
doors  which  he  passes,  may  see  a  neat  little  parlour,  with  a  young 
woman  alone  in  it,  perhaps,  for  w^ant  of  other  occupation,  lisdessly 
thrumming  the  piano.  Returning  again,  he  may  observe  the  same 
party,  varying  her  occupation  by  leisurely  strolling  along  the  lobby, 
either  alone  or  in  company  with  some  others  similarly  circum- 
stanced, on  whom  she  has  called,  perhaps,  at  some  of  the  adjoining 
rooms.  This  mode  of  life,  in  addition  to  its  many  exposures,  has 
other  evils  attendant  upon  it;  a  couple  cannot  always  thus  live,  and 
it  is  but  a  poor  preparation  for  the  domestic  life,  to  which  they 
must  sooner  or  later  betake  themselves.  It  frequently  begets  a 
carelessness  and  want  of  forethought,  that  are  discernible  in  their 
effects  long  after  it  is  abandoned.  Nor  are  the  evils  of  the  system 
confined  to  those  who  submit  themselves  to  it.  Its  influence  ex- 
tends, more  or  less,  to  their  friends  and  acquaintances  whom  they 
visit,  and  who  are  in  the  habit  of  calUng  upon  them.  This  mode 
of  life  is  not  confined  to  hotels,  but  it  is  in  connexion  with  hotels 
that  its  evils  are  most  apparent.  To  be  sure,  it  is  but  a  small  pro- 
portion of  the  American  people  who  resort  to  it;  but  the  domestic 
life  of  America  would,  on  the  whole,  be  improved,  if  parties  did  not 
marry  until  they  could  reconcile  themselves  to  the  quiet  and  the 
duties  of  home. 

The  taste  for  music  is  universal  with  the  American  ladies,  in 
which  a  very  large  proportion  of  them  become  great  proficients. 
Many  of  them  are  also  excessively  fond  of  dancing;  although  there 
are  others  by  whom  this  harmless  amusement  is  looked  upon  as  a 
lieinous  sin.  By  none  is  it  more  denounced  than  by  the  Presbyte- 
rians of  the  north,  the  terrors  of  Church  censure  hanorinor  over  those 
who  might  be  inclined  to  off'end.  I  have  seen  all  the  Presbyterians 
at  a  party  withdraw  as  soon  as  dancing  commenced.  So  long  as 
there  was  nothing  but  gossiping  and  promenading,  arm  in  arm, 
about  the  rooms  and  lobbies,  there  was  no  harm  done;  but  the 
moment  that  it  was  proposed  to  continue  the  chit-chat  in  a  vis-d-vis, 
and  to  move  the  feet  to  the  sound  of  music,  instead  of  doing  so  at 
random,  in  the  sight  of  these  well-meaning  people,  some  recondite 
line  of  the  moral  law  was  about  to  be  transcended,  to  which  they 
would  not  be  parties  themselves,  nor  would  they  stop  to  witness 
the  sin  of  others. 

There  is  another  point,  in  reference  to  which  the  impression  pre- 
valent in  this  country  is  somewhat  erroneous, — that  involved  in  the 


142  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

relation  between  master  and  servant  in  America.  It  is  quite  tnie 
tliat  the  ffiilf  which  separates  these  two  classes  of  society  in  England 
is  greater  and  more  impassable  than  it  is  in  America;  the  master  in 
the  former  occupying  higher,  and  the  servant  lower  ground,  than  in 
the  latter.  But  it  is  equally  true,  that  in  America  there  is  a  broad 
and  distinct  line  drawn  between  the  two  conditions  of  master  and 
servant.  If  the  servant  is  not  as  obedient  as  he  is  in  Europe,  or 
the  master  as  exacting,  it  is  not  because  the  servant  puts  himself  on 
a  footing  of  equality  with  the  master  whilst  the  relation  subsists  be- 
tween them,  but  because  both  parties  look  to  the  time  when  that 
relation  will  be  dissolved,  by  the  servant  becoming  himself  a  master. 
There  is  in  America,  with  the  exception  of  the  slave  states,  no 
permanent  class  of  servants  as  in  other  countries;  but  to  suppose 
that,  so  long  as  any  individual  acts  in  the  relation  of  a  servant,  he 
puts  himself,  in  all  respects,  on  an  equality  with  his  master,  is  to 
be  in  error;  and  much  more  so  to  think  that,  should  such  equality 
be  asserted,  it  would  be  conceded  by  the  master.  In  America,  as 
elsewhere,  the  servant,  so  long  as  he  remains  a  servant,  is  in  sub- 
ordination to  the  master,  although  the  tie  is  more  easily  and  more 
frequently  broken,  because  the  servant  is  not  in  the  same  position 
of  absolute  dependence  as  elsewhere.  He  may  become  unmanage- 
able from  the  readiness  with  which  he  can  find  employment;  but 
the  moment  he  trenches  upon  the  master's  prerogatives  he  is  dis- 
missed, instead  of  being  permitted  to  share  them.  It  is  quite  true, 
that  in  many  of  the  rural  districts,  particularly  in  the  newer  settle- 
ments, masters  and  servants  live  upon  the  same  footing.  But  this 
occurs  in  a  state  of  society  in  which  the  drawing  a  line  of  distinc- 
tion would  be  as  impossible  as  it  would  be  ridiculous.  The  farmer 
v/ho  works  side  by  side  with  his  servant,  tilling  the  same  field  with 
him,  coping  Avith  him  constantly  at  the  same  work,  could  scarcely 
sit  in  one  end  of  the  house  at  his  meals  whilst  the  servant  sat  at  his 
in  the  other.  The  farmer,  his  sons  and  servants,  work  together  and 
eat  together,  living  as  nearly  in  a  state  of  equality  with  each  other  as 
can  be.  This,  however,  is  the  case  in  the  rural  districts  of  Canada 
as  well  as  in  those  of  the  United  States.  But  to  think  that  the  same 
practice  in  its  totality,  or  even  in  a  modified  form,  enters  into  all 
grades  of  society,  is  erroneous.  In  American  society,  in  the  ordi- 
nary sense  of  the  term,  the  servant  is  the  servant,  as  in  Europe.  In 
America  they  may  be  more  impertinent,  and  less  easily  kept  in 
their  places  ;  but  this  results  not  from  the  master's  giving  way  to 
anv  unreasonable  claims,  but  from  the  fact  that  servants  there  can 
more  easily  find  other  places  than  with  us. 

Amongst  a  people  so  widely  scattered,  and  living  under  such  dif- 
ferent circumstances,  one  may  naturally  expect  to  meet  Avith  every 
variety  of  character,  and  every  stage  of  social  development.  It  is 
almost  impossible  for  one  at  a  distance,  in  contemplating  a  moral 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  143 

picture  so  diversified  as  is  that  presented  in  America, — from  the  life 
of  the  back-woodsman  on  the  Miami  or  tlie  Wabash,  to  that  ex- 
hibited by  the  polished  commercial  community  on  the  coast,  and 
from  the  indolence  and  impetuosity  of  the  Southerner,  to  the  plod- 
ding enterprise  and  equanimity  of  the  New  Englander, — to  dis- 
tinguish at  all  times  between  a  local  peculiarity  and  a  general 
characteristic.  Hence  it  is,  that  amongst  the  mistakes  fallen  into, 
the  whole  American  people  are  too  readily  blamed  by  the  European, 
for  the  savage  character  which  duelling  assumes  in  some  parts  of 
the  country.  It  would  be  equally  just  to  comprehend  the  Abolition- 
ists in  the  blame  of  slavery;  or  to  say,  that  because  steamers  are 
constantly  being  blown  up  on  the  Mississippi,  they  are  necessarily 
being  so  upon  the  Hudson  also.  Nowhere  is  the  duelling  spirit 
prevalent  in  the  South  so  severely  reprehended  as  in  the  Northern 
States.  It  is  seldom  that  a  duel  occurs  in  the  latter,  but  far  more 
seldom  that  it  is  attended  by  any  of  the  savage  accompaniments 
which  so  often  characterize  the  duels  of  the  South.  Even  in  the 
South  itself  there  are  differences  in  this  respect,  there  being  some 
districts  in  which  the  propensity  to  duelling  assumes  the  type  of  an 
ineradicable  chronic  distemper.  In  places  thus  afflicted,  society 
displays  a  degree  of  over-sensitiveness,  which  is  quite  unnecessary 
for  the  conservation  of  honour.  In  no  place,  perhaps,  is  this  over- 
sensitiveness  so  much  exhibited  as  in  the  capital  of  Virginia.  But 
a  high  degree  of  physical  sensibility,  whilst  it  may  result  from  a  fine 
nervous  organization,  may  also  be  the  consequence  of  an  inflamma- 
tory disorder:  and  so  with  this  over-sensitiveness  of  feeling;  it  by 
no  means  proves  a  healthy  moral  state,  or  a  clear  perception  of  the 
real  nature  of  honour.  It  is  curious  to  witness  the  extent  to  which, 
in  such  places  as  those  alluded  to,  all  parties  are  equally  infected. 
When  a  quarrel  arises  and  a  duel  is  the  consequence,  the  whole 
community  take  sides,  ladies  and  all,  and  the  merits  of  the  quarrel 
are  discussed  with  the  utmost  coolness;  one  set  coming  to  the  con- 
clusion that  the  challenger  under  the  circumstances  could  not  but 
challenge,  and  the  other  that  the  challenged  could  not  but  fight. 
But  I  allude  to  this  merely  to  remove  the  impression  that  the  duel 
is  a  practice  which  universally  obtains  in  America,  or  that  it  is  coun- 
tenanced by  the  tastes,  the  habits,  and  the  views  of  society  at  large. 
So  far  is  this  from  being  the  case,  that  some,  even  of  the  AVestern 
States,  have  lately  adopted  the  most  stringent  provisions  for  its  sup- 
pression. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary,  in  here  concluding  this  survey,  again  to 
remind  the  reader,  that  society,  in  the  larger  communities  already 
named,  has  reached  a  point  of  development,  which  renders  much  of 
the  foregoing  nearly  as  inapplicable  to  it,  in  connexion  with  these 
communities,  as  it  would  be  to  the  social  condition  of  London  or 
Paris. 


144  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

I  cannot  do  better  than  close  this  chapter  with  a  brief  reference 
to  the  slyle  and  characteristics  of  American  beauty.  There  are  two 
points  in  which  it  is  sckloni  equalled,  never  excelled — the  classic 
chasteness  and  delicacy  of  the  features,  and  the  smallncss  and  ex- 
quisite symmetry  of  the  extremities.  In  the  latter  respect,  particu- 
larly, the  American  ladies  are  singularly  fortunate.  I  have  seldom 
seen  one,  delicately  brought  up,  who  had  not  a  fine  hand.  'J'he 
feet  are  also  generally  very  small  and  exquisitely  moulded,  particu- 
larly those  of  a  Maryland  girl;  who,  well  aware  of  their  attractive- 
ness, has  a  thousand  little  coquettish  ways  of  her  own  of  temptingly 
exhibitingr  them.  That  in  which  the  American  women  are  most 
deficient  is  roundness  of  figure.  But  it  is  a  mistake  to  suppose  that 
well-rounded  forms  are  not  to  be  found  in  America.  Whilst  this  is 
the  characteristic  of  English  beauty,  it  is  not  so  prominent  a  feature 
in  America.  In  New  England,  in  the  mountainous  districts  of 
Pennsylvania  and  Maryland,  and  in  the  central  valley  of  Virginia, 
the  female  form  is,  generally  speaking,  as  well  rounded  and  deve- 
loped as  it  is  here;  whilst  a  New  England  complexion  is,  in  nine 
cases  out  of  ten,  a  match  for  an  English  one.  This,  however,  can- 
not be  said  of  the  American  ladies  as  a  class.  Thev  are,  in  the 
majority  of  cases,  over  delicate  and  languid;  a  defect  chiefly  super- 
induced by  their  want  of  exercise.  An  English  girl  will  go  through 
as  much  exercise  in  a  forenoon,  without  dreaming  of  fatigue,  as  an 
American  will  in  a  day,  and  be  overcome  by  the  exertion.  It  is 
also  true,  that  American  is  more  evanescent  than  English  beauty, 
particularly  in  the  south,  where  it  seems  to  fade  ere  it  has  well 
bloomed.  But  it  is  much  more  lasting  in  the  north  and  north-cast; 
a  remark  which  will  apply  to  the  whole  region  north  of  the  Poto- 
mac, and  east  of  the  Lakes;  and  I  have  known  instances  of  Phila- 
delphia beauty  as  lovely  and  enduring  as  any  that  our  own  hardy 
climate  can  produce. 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  145 


CHAPTER  XII. 


POLITICAL    ASPECT    OF    THE    UNITED    STATES. 

Complexity  of  the  American  System. — Its  Double  Aspect,  central  and  local  -  - 
The  Constitutioiuil  System  in  its  Federal  capacity. — The  Executive  Power. 
—Its  Authority,  Responsibility,  and  Means  of  Government. — The  Legisla- 
tive Power. — Its  Constitution,  Functions,  and  Modes  of  Action.— Single  and 
Double  Chambers — The  Veto  Power — Mode  and  Terms  of  Election  to  the 
Two  Houses  of  Congress.— Basis  of  the  Representation.— The  Ballot.— 
Peculiar  Position  of  the  Senate.— Its  Executive  Functions.— The  Doctrine 
of  Instructions,  as  applied  to  it.--The  Presidential  Election.— Mode  of  con- 
ducting it. — Manner  of  Election,  when  no  Choice  by  the  People. — Single, 
and  Double  Terms.— ^'ie^vs  entertained  by  many,  of  the  President's  Posi- 
tion and  Power.— Anomalous  I'osition  of  the  Vice-President. — Territorial 
Government. — 1  he  American  System,  in  its  i-elation  to  the  different  States. 
— Their  Sovereignty,  Independence,  and  Separate  action. — Conflict  of 
Jurisdiction. — ProspectsoftheUnion.— Its  Weakness. — Its  Strength.— Com- 
bination of  the  National  and  Federal  Principles.— Nullification. — Cost  of 
Government  in  England  and  America. — Contrast  between  the  Political 
Systems  of  the  two  Countries.— Note. 

By  those  who  have  not  closely  examined  into  its  constitution  and 
working,  it  is  very  generally,  but  very  erroneously,  believed  that 
the  political  scheme  of  America  is  one  of  the  most  "simple  arrange- 
ments, and  that  the  machinery  of  its  government  is  free  from  the- 
complications  observable  in  the  institutions  of  other  countries.  The 
only  thing  in  which  the  American  system  is  simple  is  the  principle 
upon  which  it  is  based — the  political  equality  of  man ;  the  govern- 
mental superstructure  which  is  raised  on  this  foundation  presenting 
to  the  eye  of  the  careful  observer  one  of  the  most  elaborate  poHticjil 
devices  on  earth.  The  complicity  which  characterizes  tlie  Ameri- 
can system  is  not,  however,  that  which  arises  from  confusion,  being 
solely  attributable  to  the  number  of  its  parts,  and  the  necessary 
intricacy  of  their  collocation.  Whatever  may  be  thought  of  its 
absolute  excellence,  or  of  its  adaptation  to  its  purposes,  every  one 
who  comprehends  it  must  admit  that  the  American  constitution  is 
one  of  the  most  ingenious  pieces  of  political  mechanism  that  ever 
resulted  from  the  deliberations  of  man.  Let  not  the  reader  shrink 
from  the  brief  sketch  of  it  which  follows,  under  the  idea  that  it  is  to 
assume  the  character  of  a  minute  analysis,  or  a  learned  and  techni- 
cal commentary;  my  object  being  to  present  such  a  picture  of  it  to 
him  as  may  not  only  inform  tlie  mind,  but  also  leave  an  impression 
upon  the  imagination. 
VOL.  I. — 1.3 


146  THE  WESTERN  WORLD, 

The  federal  character  of  the  republic  was  the  chief  difficulty  in 
the  way  of  the  organization  of  the  general  government.  When 
there  are  but  one  people  and  one  set  of  interests  to  provide  for,  it 
may  be  a  comparatively  easy  matter,  if  the  people  are  understood 
and  their  interests  appreciated,  to  devise  a  constitutional  framework 
for  their  political  life.  Cut  in  America  the  case  was  widely  diffe- 
rent. In  framing  a  constitution  for  the  whole  body,  the  social  and 
political  peculiarities  and  conflicting  interests  of  thirteen  different 
and  independent  communities  had  to  be  studied;  and  the  task  of 
framing  such  a  system  as  would  reconcile  all,  whilst  it  offended 
none,  was  one,  the  magnitude  of  which  is  only  understood  when  it 
is  considered  that,  previously  to  the  Revolution,  they  had  but  little 
in  common  with  each  otlier,  either  as  to  tastes,  sympathies,  or  habits; 
that  great  event  uniting  them,  for  the  first  time,  in  the  pursuit  of  a 
common  object,  and  for  the  avoidance  of  a  common  danger.  And 
not  only  had  the  necessities  of  the  times  to  be  consulted,  in  devising 
the  constitution;  the  exigencies  of  the  future  had  also  to  be  provided 
for.  The  fabric  to  be  reared  must  be  such  as  to  afford  accommoda- 
tion for  future  as  well  as  for  present  applicants;  sufficiently  com- 
pact to  meet  the  wants  of  existing  communities,  and  sufficiently 
elastic  to  embrace  future  sovereignties,  without  distorting  its  outline 
or  impairing  its  strength.  How  far  its  framers  succeeded  in  their 
object  may  be  inferred  from  the  fact,  that  the  constitution  devised 
for  the  thirteen  original  States,  has,  without  any  essential  change  in 
its  character,  expanded  its  dimensions,  until  at  present  no  less  than 
thirty  different  and  mutually  independent  communities  are  embraced 
within  its  pale.  The  American  confederation  now  exhibits  no  less 
than  thirty-one  different  political  systems  in  contemporaneous  ope- 
ration ;  the  federal  government  which,  for  certain  purposes,  extends 
over  the  whole  Union,  and  the  thirty  different  constitutional  schemes, 
which  the  thirty  different  States  have  adopted  for  themselves,  for  the 
management  of  such  matters  as  do  not  fall  within  the  purview  of  the 
powers  of  the  general  government.  One  of  the  grand  difficulties 
originally  in  the  way  was  to  draw  the  line  between  general  and  local 
jurisdiction.  In  most  instances  it  is  broadly  traced,  but  in  some 
points  so  lightly  defined  as  to  give  rise  to  frequent  struggles  between 
the  Federal  and  State  authorities. 

The  repubhc  then  presents  two  aspects,  one  in  its  confederate, 
the  other  in  its  separate  capacity.  And  first,  for  a  brief  glance  at 
its  confederate  side. 

In  taking  this  glance,  it  may  be  as  well  at  once  to  refer  to  the 
broad  and  simple  basis  on  which  rests  the  whole  structure  of  the 
American  government.  At  the  foundation  of  all,  and  permeating 
the  entire  system,  is  the  principle  of  the  absolute  sovereignty  of  the 
people.  The  presence  of  this  fundamental  id(;a  is  discernible  in  the 
whole  constitutional  arrangement,  as  its  infiucnce  is  perceptible  in 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  147 

its  every  modification.  It  is  the  grand  rule  to  which  power,  in  all 
its  delegated  forms,  is  the  exception.  There  is  no  authority  pos- 
sessed either  by  the  general  government,  or  by  the  State  govern- 
ments, which  has  not  emanated  from  a  voluntary  abdication  ])ro 
tanfo,  on  the  part  of  the  people.  Government  is  not  in  America  a 
self-subsistent  power,  coercing  the  people  into  subjection;  but  the 
instrument  of  their  authority  and  the  exponent  of  their  will.  The 
assertion  of  this  popular  sovereignty  necessarily  implies  the  sub- 
jection to  the  strictest  accountability  of  all  the  departments  of  the 
government.  With  but  few  exceptions,  the  elective  principle  is 
applied  to  every  office  in  the  State,  whilst  the  tenure  of  office  is  of 
but  brief  duration.  Authority  proceeds  from  the  people  only  to 
merge  again  in  the  fountain  whence  it  flowed.  It  thus  never  be- 
comes independent  of  its  source,  periodically  lapsing  into  it,  as  the 
vapours  which  exhale  from  the  earth  fall  again  upon  its  surface  in 
showers.  By  the  time  that  power  can  acquire  any  independent 
interests  of  its  own,  it  sinks  again  into  the  body  of  the  constituency, 
the  ruler  being  retransformed  into  the  citizen  ere  he  forgets  the 
rights  and  privileges  of  the  citizen.  It  is  obvious  that  this  constant 
creation  and  surrender  of  authority  is  necessary  to  the  maintenance 
of  that  rigid  responsibility,  which  is  a  corollary  to  the  principle  on 
which  the  government  is  founded.  In  considering  the  structure  of 
the  federal  and  state  governments,  it  will  be  seen  that  throughout,  tlie 
people  appear  as  the  great  depositories  and  dispensers  of  power, 
that  those  clothed  with  authority  are  made  as  directly  as  they  are 
frequendy  responsible  to  them,  and  that  revolution  is  averted  from 
the  system  itself,  by  the  constant  changes  which  are  taking  place  in 
the  personnel  of  its  administration. 

The  original  articles  of  confederation  having  been  found  inade- 
quate to  their  purpose,  the  present  Constitution  was  adopted  a  few 
years  after  the  close  of  the  revolutionary  struggle.  One  of  the 
greatest  alterations  then  effected  in  the  federal  system,  was  the  esta- 
blishment of  a  single  Executive.  By  the  Constitution,  the  whole 
executive  power  of  the  government,  with  some  checks,  to  be  here- 
after noticed,  is  vested  in  the  President  of  the  United  States.  To 
arm  this  department  of  the  government  with  sufficient  authority  to 
give  it  that  efficiency  which  would  secure  the  due  administration  of 
the  laws,  and  command  respect  both  at  home  and  abroad,  and  at  the 
same  time  so  to  regulate  the  exercise  of  its  authority  as  to  prevent 
it  from  trenching  upon  the  other  elements  of  the  system,  was  the 
great  problem,  to  which  were  directed  the  most  anxious  deliberations 
of  the  convention  which  formed  the  Constitution.  And  in  no  other 
part,  perhaps,  has  the  Constitution  proved  so  faulty  as  it  has  in  this, 
when  we  consider,  in  illustration  of  it,  the  manner  in  which  Mr. 
Polk  contrived  with  impunity  to  override  it,  in  taking  those  steps 
in  the  conduct  of  his  government,  which  were  the  proximate  cause 


14S  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

of  the  Mexican  war.  AlthougU  the  power  of  declaring  war  and  of 
making-  peace  is  expressly  vested  in  Congress,  the  Executive  ma- 
naged, without  nominally  usurping  the  prerogatives  of  Congress,  to 
get  the  two  republics  into  a  "  state  of  war,"  which  necessarily  de- 
volved upon  Congress  the  necessity  of  providing  the  means  for 
carrying  on  hostilities,  a  course  by  which  the  legislative  body  vir- 
tually took  upon  itself  the  responsibility  of  the  contest.  It  was  in 
vain  that  many  voices  were  raised  against  the  gross  invasion  of  the 
Constitution  of  which  the  Executive  had  been  guilty,  and  that  many 
Avarnuigs  were  given  of  the  danger  of  appearing  even  to  sanction  it. 
The  passions  of  the  democracy  were  roused  for  the  time  being;  they 
were  seized  with  a  bist  for  war,  and  cared  not  what  came  of  the 
Constitution  so  long  as  the  predominant  appetite  of  the  moment  was 
gratified.  But  the  whole  transaction  is  pregnant  with  serious  lessons 
to  the  American  people,  aflbrding  as  it  does,  a  proof  of  the  ease  with 
which  an  unscrupulous  government  may  violate  their  charter;  and 
the  ready  indemnity  which  it  may  receive  for  so  doing,  at  the  hands 
of  a  misdirected  populace.  This  should  be  a  serious  reilection  to 
a  people  who  regard  the  Constitution  as  the  basis  of  their  whole 
political  system.  In  view  of  i^cent  events,  can  thev  any  longer 
repose  in  the  full  confidence  that  it  is  a  foundation  of  rock  for  the 
Union? 

To  the  President  is  intrusted  the  manaorement  of  the  foreign  rela- 
tions,  together  with  the  administration  of  the  internal  afl^airs  of  the 
Union.  As  regards  the  former,  however,  he  is  not,  as  is  the  case 
with  the  executive  department  in  constitutional  monarchies,  invested 
M'ith  unfettered  discretion,  subject  only  to  a  general  responsibility 
to  public  opinion;  die  Senate  so  hv  participating  in  executive  autho- 
rity as  to  have  a  direct  and  immediate  control  over  the  foreign  rela- 
tions of  the  republic.  For  instance,  no  treaty  can  be  concluded 
with  any  power  without  the  assent  of  two-thirds  of  the  Senate;  nor 
can  an  ambassador  or  a  secretary  of  legation  be  appointed  to  a 
foreign  government  without  the  confirmation  of  his  appointment  by 
a  majority  of  diat  body.  To  a  certain  extent,  the  President  is  still 
left  the  power  of  independent  acUon ;  it  being  his  duty  to  initiate, 
that  of  the  Senate  to  ratify  or  disapprove.  Both  Houses  of  Con- 
gress may  urge  him  by  resolution  to  adopt  a  particular  course,  Mith 
regard  to  a  foreign  power,  but  he  is  not  compellable  to  listen  to  them. 
Sometimes,  again,  in  matters  in  regard  to  which  an  absolutely  in- 
dependent action  is  left  him,  he  prefers  taking  the  advice  of  the 
legislative  bodies;  which  they  may  tender  by  joint  or  separate  re- 
solution, or  which  they  may  refuse,  leaving  die  executive  to  act 
upon  its  own  responsibility.  Such  was  the  conduct  pursued  by 
Mr.  Polk  on  the  Oregon  question.  It  was  quite  competent  for  him 
to  have  givi?u  notice  to  the  British  government  of  the  expiration  of 
the  then  exiisting  treatv,  at  the  end  of  a  vear  from  the  time  ofjjivinjr 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  149 

the  notice.  But  he  shrank  from  the  responsihihty  of  the  troniendous 
issues  apparently  contingent  upon  such  a  step,  and  wisely  sought, 
in  taking  it,  to  shelter  himself  under  the  previous  sanction  of  Con- 
gress. This  participation  by  one  branch  of  the  legislature  in  the 
treaty-making  power,  as  well  as  in  some  other  executive  functions, 
whilst  it  is  a  pecuhar  feature  in  the  American  pohtical  system,  af- 
fords an  instance  of  the  vigilant  and  jealous  spirit  in  which  the  ex- 
ecutive department  was  conceived. 

The  President  governs  through  the  medium  of  a  Cabinet  of  his 
own  choosing,  to  whose  shoulders,  however,  is  not  transferred,  as 
with  us,  the  whole  responsibility  of  the  acts  of  the  government.  The 
Americans  do  not  recognise  the  principle  that  the  President  can  do 
no  wrong.  On  the  contrary,  they  acted,  in  determining  his  position 
and  duties,  upon  the  supposition  that  it  was  in  his  power,  if  it  M'as 
not  his  inclination,  to  do  every  mischief,  and  therefore  fettered  his 
actions.  The  ability  to  do  wrong  involves  responsibility  for  doing 
it;  and  although  the  policy  of  the  government  may  frequently  be  the 
result  of  evil  counsels,  no  one  ever  thinks  of  screening  the  President 
behind  his  cabinet.  The  constitution  of  the  Cabinet  is  itself  a  pretty 
good  indication  of  the  range  of  Presidential  authority.  It  is  com- 
posed of  the  heads  of  the  five  principal  departments  of  State — those 
of  the  Treasury — of  State — of  War — of  the  Navy,  and  of  the  Post 
Office.  The  Attorney-general  of  the  United  States  is  also  frequently 
a  member  of  it.  In  this  hst  the  reader  w411  miss  the  Home  depart- 
ment—that of  State  having  no  concern  with  any  matters  but 
such  as  appertain  to  the  foreign  policy  of  the  country.  The 
Home  business  is  attended  to  by  each  State  for  itself.  The  internal 
administration  of  the  federal  government  is  exceedingly  limited, 
being  principally  confined  to  the  management  of  the  Post  Office — 
the  raising  of  the  revenue — enforcing  the  observance  of  treaties — 
the  control  of  the  Indian  tribes  and — the  municipal  government  of 
the  district  of  Columbia,  and  of  the  territory  comprised  within  the 
limits  of  such  forts  and  dock-yards  as  are  in  the  possession  of  the 
United  States.  The  President  is  also  Commander-in-Chief  of  the 
army  and  navy — the  executive  government  having  the  exclusive 
control  of  the  movements  of  the  existing  land  and  naval  forces  of 
the  confederation.  He  is  also  Commander-in-Chief  of  the  militia, 
when  actually  in  the  service  of  the  United  States,  until  which  time 
they  remain  under  the  exclusive  direction  of  the  authorities  of  their 
respective  States.  So  far  reference  has  been  had  to  him  in  his  ex- 
ecutive capacity.  His  legislative  functions  will  be  considered  in 
treating  of  the  legislature. 

No  one  connected  with  the  executive  government  is  permitted  to 
occupy  a  seat  in  either  House  of  Congress.     This  is  very  diff'erent 
from  the  rule  which  obtains  with  us,  of  requiring  the  presence  of 
the  heads  of  departments  at  least  in  one  or  the  other  House  of  Par- 
is* 


150  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

1  lament,  and  is  considered  by  many  in  America  a  disadvanta<feous 
feature  in  their  political  scheme.  The  result  of  it  is,  tliat  with  the 
exception  of  such  messages  as  are  from  time  to  time  transmitted  to 
Congress  by  the  President,  all  direct  communication  is  cut  off  between 
the  legislative  bodies  and  the  executive  government.  'J'he  former 
are  consequently  very  frequently  in  painful  uncertainty  as  to  the 
views  and  policy  of  the  latter,  which,  in  such  cases,  can  only  be 
removed  by  such  revelations  as  the  private  friends  of  the  executive 
may  make,  authorizedly  or  otherwise,  either  in  or  out  of  Congress. 
The  inconvenience  of  this  was  frequently  felt  both  in  the  Senate 
and  in  the  House  of  Representatives,  during  the  progress  of  the 
Oregon  discussions;  the  whole  country  being  tossed  about  between 
alternations  of  hope  and  fear,  as  the  President's  friends  affected  to 
give  utterance  to  his  sentiments  in  either  House  of  Congress.  I  well 
remember  the  depressing  influence  produced,  particularly  on  the  com- 
mercial States, by  the  oft-repeated  insinuations,by  Mr.  Allen  of  Ohio, 
in  the  Senate,  of  his  knowledge  of  the  sentiments  of  the  President — 
whomhe  represented  as  not  having  swerved  a  hair's  breadth  from  his 
expressed  determination  to  adhere  to  the  line  of  54°  40'.  Nor  do  I  forget 
the  consternation  which  seized  the  ranks  of  the  war  party,  when  Mr. 
Haywood,  of  North  Carolina,  w^ho  was  known  to  be  a  personal 
favourite  at  the  White  House,  laboured  for  two  whole  days  to  show 
that  there  \f  as  nothing  in  the  Presidential  message  which  necessarily 
precluded  the  executive  government  from  accepting  the  49th  parallel 
of  latitude  as  a  boundary  on  the  Pacific,  should  Great  Britain  choose 
to  make  the  offer.  I  do  not  say  that  if  any  members  of  the  Cabinet 
had  been  present  on  these  occasions,  it  would  have  been  advisable 
for  tliem  to  have  disclosed  to  the  whole  world  the  views  of  the  ex- 
ecutive government;  but  their  presence  would  have  at  least  prevent- 
ed others  from  speaking  in  their  behalf,  and  from  occasioning  the 
uni^mly  spectacle  of  having  a  grave  body  like  the  Senate  alter- 
nately elevated  and  depressed  by  the  volunteer  declarations  of  some 
of  its  members,  who  either  knew,  or  only  affected  to  know,  wlint 
tbey  pretended  to  reveal.  Besides,  the  government  is  often  placed 
at  this  disadvantnge  by  being  wholly  unrepresented  in  Congress  — 
that  it  is  frcqucntl)^  undefended,  when  its  policy  is  impugned;  for, 
whilst  it  is  easy  to  attack  it,  they  only  may  be  competent  to  defend 
it  who  are  in  possession  of  all  the  motives  of  its  conduct. 

The  legislative  power  of  the  United  States  is  vested  in  the  federal 
congress,  consisting  of  a  Senate  and  House  of  Representatives.  The 
American  people  were  well  trained  in  tlie  school  of  popular  institu- 
tions, long  before  they  were  called  upon  to  institute  an  independent 
popular  government.  The  consequence  was,  that  when  they  set 
about  the  task  of  framing  a  constitution,  they  proceeded  to  their 
M'ork,  not  like  dreamers  or  theorists,  but  like  practical  men,  who 
well  understand    the  business  in  which   tlun'  are  en"n<rcd.     When 

I,  J  CD 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  l.jl 

the  question  before  ihem  related  to  the  distribution  of  llic  legislative 
power,  there  were  certainly  not  wanting  those  who  counselled  tlie 
proprietv  of  having  only  a  sin»jle  Chamber.  But  this  was  a  peril 
which  America  was  by  the  prudence  of  her  statesmen  enabled  to 
avoid.  There  are  many  who  cannot  dissociate  the  idea  of  a  double 
Chamber  from  monarchy,  with  which  it  is  most  frequendy  found 
in  juxtaposition.  They  thus  contract  an  aversion  to  the  principle 
from  one  of  its  manifestations.  They  fancy  that  they  cannot  have 
the  benefits  without  the  drawbacks  of  a  double  Chamber;  whereas 
a  very  little  reflection  might  teach  them  that  all  that  is  valuable  in 
the  principle  might  be  secured,  wliilst  all  that  was  objectionable  was 
avoided.  It  by  no  means  follows  that  because  in  most  instances 
in  which  a  double  Chamber  exists  or  has  existed,  one  only  has,  even 
theoretically,  represented  the  people,  whilst  the  other  has,  confess- 
edly and  notoriously  represented  but  a  class  or  section  of  the  people, 
or  been  entirely  constituted  of  that  class,  two  Chambers  could  not 
exist,  each  of  which  represented  the  whole  people,  though  in  dif- 
ferent modes  and  degrees. 

In  countries  where  there  are  distinctions  of  class,  the  doubles 
Chamber  has  a  double  object  to  fulfil;  for  not  only  are  two  legisla- 
tive  bodies,  co-ordinate  and  independent  of  each  other,  deemed  ne- 
cessary as  a  check  upon  mischievous  and  precipitate  legislation, 
but  one  of  the  two  is  designed  to  keep  up  the  power  and  privileges 
of  a  certain  class.  But  where  no  such  distinction  exists  there  can 
be  no  such  object  as  the  latter  to  fulfil;  when,  if  the  purpose  first 
named  be  deemed  a  desirable  one,  the  sole  object  of  a  double  Cham- 
ber would  be  to  secure  it.  How  far  a  double  Chamber  is  capable 
of  securing  it  has  been  abundantly  proved  by  the  leg-islative  expe- 
riences both  of  this  country  and  America.  But  when  the  Americans 
adopted  the  double  Chamber,  they  had  only  the  experience  of  Eng- 
land to  guide  them.  They  adopted  it  simply  to  check  reckless  legis- 
lation; and  having  once  established  a  dual  legislature,  they  invested 
one  branch  of  it,  with  a  view  to  other  objects,  with  peculiar  powers. 
But  both  Chamber*!,  as  will  be  immediately  seen,  were  made  elective, 
so  that  both  might  represent  the  whole  nation.  They  differ  only 
as  to  th-e  mode  in  which,  and  the  terms  for  whicli,  they  are  elected. 
Thus  all  the  benefits  of  the  double  Chamber  have  been  secured  to 
them,  without  their  having  any  cause  to  be  jealous  of  either  of  them; 
at  the  same  time,  as  will  be  afterwards  shown  in  treating  more  par- 
ticularly of  the  federal  legislature,  both  Chambers  can  act  a  co-ordi- 
nate part,  really  as  well  as  nominally,  from  being  both  based  upon 
the  suffrages  of  the  people.  America  has  been  saved  from  many  a 
precipice  by  her  double  Chamber. 

As  the  legislative  body  is  itself  a  creation  of  the  Constitution,  so 
its  powers  are  strictly  defined  by  tliat  document.  It  is  a  common 
saying  with  us,  that  the  powers  of  Parliament  are  transcendent  and 


152  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

omnipotent;  but  it  is  otherwise  with  the  American  Congress.  It 
is  only  within  certain  limits  that  it  can  constitutionally  act;  beyond 
these  limits  it  is  as  impotent  as  a  child.  It  is  not  a  body  concen- 
trating in  itself  all  legislative  powers  except  such  as  may  be  express- 
ly denied  it,  but  a  body  possessing  no  legislative  power  whatever, 
except  such  as  is  expressly  conferred  upon  it.  If  it  transcends  the 
circle  of  its  authority,  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States  stands 
by  to  annul  its  arts,  a  relation  between  the  judiciary  and  the  legis- 
lature, which  will  be  hereafter  more  fully  explained.  Its  powers, 
which  are  specifically  enumerated  in  eighteen  consecutive  clauses 
of  the  Constitution,  have  all,  more  or  less,  reference  to  the  common 
interests  and  general  welfare  of  the  Union.  Indeed,  it  can  only  le- 
gislate in  matters  exclusively  federal.  Its  chief  powers  are  to  levy 
and  collect  taxes  for  the  purposes  of  revenue,  to  regulate  foreign  and 
domestic  commerce,  to  coin  money,  to  declare  war,  and  to  provide 
for  the  common  defence  by  raising  and  equipping  armies,  and  by 
maintaining  a  navy;  and,  when  necessary,  by  organizing  and  equip- 
pin^r  the  militia. 

With  the  exception  of  money  bills,  which  must  originate  in  the 
House  of  Representatives,  any  legislative  measure  within  the  power 
of  Congress  to  enact,  may  be  initiated  in  either  House.     In  respect 
to  the  introduction  of  bills,  a  practice  pi*evails  which  might  be  very 
usefully  imitated  in  this  country.     At  the  commencement  of  each 
session,  both  Houses  appoint  standing  committees  upon   different 
subjects,  within  the  province  of  one  or  other  of  which  such  legisla- 
tive acts  as  they  may  be  called  upon  to  consider  must  necessarily 
fall.     Each  House,  ibr  instance,  has  its  standing  committee  on  Fo- 
reign Relations,  on  Ways  and  Means,  on  Military  Affairs,  on  the 
Judiciary,  (fee.     When  it  is  found  necessary  to  legislate  on  any  of 
these  subjects,  the  matter  is  generally  referred  to  the  appropriate 
committee,  which  is  instructed  to  report  a  bill  in  reference  to  it, 
should  it  see  fit  so  to  do.     Should  it  refuse  to  do  so,  the  power  of 
.the  House  over  the  subject  is  not  gone,  inasmuch  as  a  bill  may  be 
introduced  independendy  of  such  adverse  report;    and  every  bill 
which  is  introduced,  not  emanating  directly  from  a  committee,  may 
be  referred  to  the  appropriate  committee,  according  to  the  nature  of 
its  subject-matter.     The  consequence  is,  that  bills  are  in  general 
much  more  carefully  prepared  than  they  are  with  us;  so  that  the 
statute-book  is  prevented  from  being  overloaded,  as  ours  is,  wiUi  acts 
to  amend  acts,  and  to  amend  again  the  amending  acts  themselves. 
A  bill  having  passed  one  House,  is  sent  into  the  other,  where,  if  it 
is  rejected,  it  is  dropped,  as  widi  us,  for  the  session.     When  both 
Houses  concur,  it  is  transmitted  to  the  President  for  his  approval, 
and,  on  receiviuir  his  sijjnature,  becomes  law.     If  he  retains  it  for 
ten  days  after  it  is  sent  up  to  him,  without   signifying  his  approval 
thereof,  or  dissent  therefrom,  it  then  also  i.)ecoines  law.     If,  however. 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  353 

he  dissent  within  the  ten  days,  the  bill  is  vetoed,  when,  in  order  to 
enable  it  to  become  law,  it  mnst  afterwards  receive  the  assent  of 
two-thirds  of  the  members  of  each  House.  If  it  do  so,  it  becomes 
law  without  any  further  reference  to  the  President. 

It  is  this  veto  power  which,  although  the  first  clause  of  the  Con- 
stitution declares  that  all  legislative  power  shall  be  vested  in  Con- 
gress, defining  Congress  to  consist  of  a  Senate  and  House  of  Rep- 
resentatives, makes  the  executive  virtually  a  co-ordinate  branch  of 
the  legislature.  It  is  extremely  rare  to  find  parties  so  unequally 
matched  in  the  United  States  as  to  render  it  likely  that  a  bill  vetoed 
by  the  President  will  be  afterwards  assented  to  by  so  large  a  ma- 
jority as  two-thirds  of  either  House.  The  consequence  is,  that  the 
veto  of  the  President  is  tantamount  to  the  rejection  of  the  bill  by 
either  of  the  two  Houses  themselves;  and  scarcely  a  session  passes 
in  which  the  power  thus  vested  in  him  is  not  frequently  exercised. 
Thus,  although,  as  compared  with  the  -constitntional  sovereign  of 
this  country,  he  may  be  fettered  and  restricted  in  his  executive  ca- 
pacity, his  legislative  power,  although  theoretically  not  greater,  is, 
practically  speaking,  much  more  so,  being  by  far  more  frequently 
and  more  boldly  exercised,  in  opposition  to  the  two  other  branched 
of  tlie  legislature,  than  it  has  been  in  this  country  for  nearly  two 
centuries  past. 

Such  being  the  constitution  of  the  different  departments  of  the 
federal  government,  and  such  the  scope  respectively  of  their  autho- 
rity, it  may  not  now  be  amiss  to  inquire  how,  and  how  often  parties 
are  elected  to  fill  them.  With  the  exception  of  the  judicial  office, 
and  the  difl'erent  departments  of  the  executive  government,  imme- 
diately within  the  control  of  the  President,  as  well  as  the  more  sub- 
ordinate amongst  offices  purely  ministerial,  every  post  in  America 
must  be  filled  by  election.  Indeed,  in  some  of  the  States  the  elective 
principle  has  been  carried  so  far  as  to  include  the  judiciary  itself 
within  its  range. 

Both  Houses  of  Congress,  as  already  observed,  are  elective  bodies, 
although  in  different  modes  and  degrees — the  Lower  House  spring- 
ing directly,  the  Upper  only  mediately  from  the  people.  No  one 
can  be  returned  to  this  or  to  the  other  House  of  Congress,  unless, 
if  he  seeks  to  be  a  senator,  he  resides  within  the  State  which  he 
wishes  to  represent;  or,  if  he  confine  his  views  to  the  House  of 
Representatives,  he  be  a  resident  of  the  county  or  electoral  district 
within  the  State  for  which  he  is  desirous  of  becoming  member.  It 
is  not  difficult  to  discover  some  propriety  in  this  rule  as  regards  the 
Senate ;  but  in  its  extension  to  the  other  House,  the  services  of  many 
eminent  men  are  lost  to  the  nation ;  for,  if  they  are  repudiated  by 
the  successful  machinations  of  faction  in  their  own  localities,  they 
can  represent  no  other  constituency  in  the  country.  This,  how- 
ever, is  all  the  mischief  which  the  rule  works  in  America.     A  si  mi- 


154  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

lar  rule  adopted  in  this  country  would  operate  in  a  similar  manner, 
at  the  same  time  that  it  would  be  liable  to  the  additional  objection, 
that  it  would  enable  the  government,  from  the  power  which  the  still 
rotten  state  of  the  representation  gives  it  of  controlling  many  con- 
stituencies, to  get  rid  of  a  troublesome  member  of  the  House,  by 
simply  taking  care  to  have  him  defeated  in  his  own  locality.  But 
now  the  defeated  candidate  may  be  returned  by  another  constituency, 
over  which  the  government  may  not  have  the  same  power.  For 
some  time  the  rule  was  with  us  as  it  now  is  in  America,  but  it  was 
soon  changed.  The  House  of  Representatives  is  entirely  renewed 
every  second  year,  from  the  whole  body  of  the  people.  It  consists 
at  present  of  about  230  members — to  prevent  it  from  greatly  exceed- 
ing which  number,  the  basis  of  representation  is  enlarged  every  ten 
years,  after  each  successive  census.  At  present  there  is  a  repre- 
sentative in  Congress  for  every  70,000  people;  at  the  adoption  of 
the  constitution  there  was  one  for  every  30,000. 

Whilst  population  is  thus  made  the  sole  basis  of  representation, 
the  suffrage  is,  for  all  purposes, — municipal,  state,  or  federal, — uni- 
versal. In  a  country  like  America,  the  whole  of  whose  political 
fabric  rests  upon  the  recognised  equality  of  man,  it  is  difficult  to  see 
how  any  other  basis  for  the  representation  could  have  been  assumed. 
In  America  too,  where  the  people  are  all,  more  or  less,  industrious, 
population  and  property  are  pretty  equally  distributed  throughout 
the  country.  Thus,  whilst  the  only  basis  is  assumed  which  con- 
forms to  the  spirit  of  the  whole  system,  the  representation,  in  effect, 
rests  upon  the  double  basis  of  population  and  property.  The 
Americans  thus  aimed  at  a  single  intelliorible  basis,  and  secured  a 
double  one.  How  different  is  it  with  us!  It  defies  the  ingenuity 
of  man  to  state  the  basis  on  which  representation  in  Great  Britain 
rests.     Indeed  it  has  none,  at  least  none  that  is  intelligible. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  here  to  add,  that,  with  one  or  two  ex- 
ceptions, the  vote  in  America  is  universally  taken  by  ballot.  One 
of  the  objections  offered  to  the  adoption  of  the  ballot  in  England  is, 
that  in  America,  where  it  prevails,  there  is  no  concealment  in  voting. 
Generally  speaking,  this  is  perfectly  true;  but  they  are  driven  to 
desperate  shifts  for  argument,  who  make  use  of  this  as  one  against 
the  power  of  secret  voting.  Even  if  the  objection  to  open  voting 
were  simply  that  it  is  open,  the  want  of  concealment  in  America 
would  be  no  argument  against  the  ballot,  seeing  that,  although  secret 
voting  is  within  the  reach  of  every  elector,  it  is  not  compulsory  there. 
The  objection  to  open  voting  in  a  country  like  this  rests  upon  the 
power  which  it  gives  to  parties,  exercising  an  undue  influence,  to 
control  the  elections.  The  vote  by  ballot,  without  concealment, 
would  be  no  cure  for  this  evil;  but  it  does  not  follow  that  the  vote 
by  ballot  must  necessarily  be  without  concealinent.  Let  it  be  made 
compulsorily  secret  as  regards  all,  and  what  becomes  of  the  argu- 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  155 

ment  founded  on  the  want  of  concealment?  In  this  country,  were 
it  adopted,  it  would  be  necessary  that,  for  some  time  at  Isast,  it 
should  be  made  compulsorily  secret;  else  he  who  voted  secredy 
would  be  marked  by  those  who  sought  to  influence  him,  as  much 
as  he  who  voted  openly  against  them.  If,  in  America,  the  vote  by 
ballot  is  given  in  ninety-nine  cases  out  of  a  hundred  without  conceal- 
ment, it  is  because  the  constituencies  are  so  numerous  as  to  be  in- 
dependent— the  electors  are  at  liberty  to  consult  their  own  wishes, 
and  there  is  nobody  to  call  them  to  account  for  the  mode  in  which 
they  have  voted.  Still,  any  elector  has  it  in  his  power,  if  he  so 
chooses,  to  vote  secretly,  and  some  invariably  do  so.  No  argu- 
ment, therefore,  in  regard  to  the  adoption  of  the  ballot  here,  can  be 
drawn  from  the  practice  of  a  country,  whose  electoral  system  pre- 
sents so  many  points  at  variance  with  our  own.  Here  we  have 
numerous  small  constituencies  amenable  to  local  influences.  There, 
all  the  constituencies  are  large,  the  terms  for  which  parties  are 
elected  are  short,  fortunes  are  not  sufficiently  great  to  permit  of  mo- 
ney being  squandered  at  elections,  and  the  emoluments  of  oflice  are 
too  small  to  tempt  any  one  to  throw  away  much  money  in  the  hope 
of  attaining  place. 

It  is  obvious,  that  the  more  populous  States  will  have  a  larger 
share  in  the  representative  body  than  their  less  populous  neighbours. 
The  basis  of  representation  Avill  soon  extend  to  100,000  persons  for 
each  member,  when  a  small  State  like  Delaware,  with  a  population 
below  that  number,  would  be  precluded  from  all  share  in  the  rep- 
resentation, but  for  a  provision  in  the  constitution,  to  the  effect,  that 
each  State  must  have  at  least  one  member  in  the  House  of  Repre- 
sentatives. The  population  of  Delaware  is,  at  present,  above  the 
mark;  but  it  will  not  long  continue  so,  when  it  will  owe  its  posses- 
sion of  a  voice  in  the  Lower  House  to  the  constitutional  provision 
referred  to.  Whilst  that  State  has  but  one  member.  New  York  has 
about  thirty-four — the  disparities  between  the  rest  of  the  States 
ranging  between  these  two  extremes.  This,  it  is  evident,  would,  in 
a  time  of  great  excitement,  result  in  the  virtual  political  extinction 
of  the  smaller  States,  but  for  the  conservative  character  of  the  Se- 
nate. 

This  branch  of  the  federal  legislature  does  not,  like  the  other, 
spring  directly  from  popular  election.  Its  members  are  appointed 
by  the  legislatures  of  the  difl'erent  states,  each  state  having  two  re- 
presentatives in  the  Senate.  In  this  body,  therefore,  the  smaller 
States  are  on  an  equal  footing  with  the  larger,  Delaware  and  Rhode 
Island  having  each  as  potent  a  voice  in  it  as  New  York  or  Penn- 
sylvania. Thus  it  will  be  perceived  that  whilst  it  is  the  people,  in 
their  aggregate  character,  that  are  represented  in  the  House  of 
Representatives,  it  is  by  states  that  they  are  represented  in  the 
Senate;  an  arrangement  which  was  adopted  to  meet  the  views  of 


156  THE  WESTERN  WORLlJ. 

all  parties.     The  people  of  the  weaker  states  justly  feared  that,  i( 
the  biisis  of  the  rcj)rese:itation  •Viore  alike   in  the  case   of  the   two 
Houses,  their  influence  in  ihe  confetleracy  would  be  contincrent  on 
sufferance;   wliilst  those  of  the   larger  and   more  powerful  stales 
naturally  objected  to  the    principle  of  equality  of   representation 
being  extended  to  both  houses,  which  would  totally  deprive  them 
of  that  share  in  the  general  administration  of  aflairSi  to  which  their 
superior  wealth  and  population  fairly  entided  them.     The  arrange- 
ment, therefore,  is  such,  that  the  three  millions  of  people  who  in^ 
habit  the  state  of  Now  York,  have  that  Iciritimate  influence  in  tlie 
government,  which,  from  their  mimbers,  and  the  ijnportant  interestJ^ 
which  Uiey  have  at  stake,  they  can  justly  claim  over  the  eiglity 
diousand   who   inhabit   Dehnvare;    wliilst   these  eighty   liiousantl, 
again,  arc  protected  in  the  Senate  from  being  utterly  overwhelmed 
by  the  three  millions.     'J'iie  result  of  this  difference  is  that,  in  the 
^Senate,  there  is  no  change  in  the  strength  or  the  relative  position 
towards  each  other,  of  the  different  states;  whereas,  in  the  House 
of  Representatives,  every  census   introduces  a  material  alteration 
into   the   relative   positions  in  the  Lower   House  of  the   different 
members  of  the  confederation.     By  nothing   have  the  successive 
changes,  in  this  respect,  which  have  already  taken  place,  been  so 
strongly  marked,  as  by  the  indication  which  they  have  afforded  of 
the  growing  power  .of  the  West.     In  no  part  of  the   country  is 
population  increasing  with  such  unexampled  rapidity  as  it  is  in  the 
Valley  of  the  Mississippi;  and  aa  every  70,000  added  to  its  num- 
bers during  the  current  decade  will  entitle  it  to  an  additional  mem- 
ber in  the  Lower  House,  the  increased  influence  which  it  will  thus 
acquire  from  the  new  apportionment  of  the  representation  which 
will  be  consequent  upon  tlie  census  of  1850,  may  be  readily  con- 
ceived.    The  time  is  wiUiin  the  recollection  of  the  present  genera- 
tion when  the  voice  of  the  West  in  Congress  was  utterly  insignifl- 
cant;  but  even  already  it  almost  divides  the  representation  with  die 
Atlantic  States,  and,  in  1850,  will  in  all  probability  outnumber  diem 
in  the  House  of  Representatives..     In  less  than  twenty  years  it  will 
have  the  decided  preponderance;  for  whilst  population  increai>es  in 
the  West,  it  diminishes  in  some  of  the  sea-board  States.     By  the 
last  apportionment,  not  only  was   die  representation  of  Indiana, 
Illinois,  and  Ohio  gready  increased,  but  that  of  Virginia  and  odier 
states  was  actually  diminished;  the  Western    States  thus  doubly 
gaining  ground  by  their  own  progression  and  the  recession  of  some 
of  their  neighbours.     This  growing  influence  of  the  West  is  re- 
garded with  uneasiness  and  jealousy  by  the  sea-board  communities; 
and  nothing  but  the  peculiar  constitution  of  tlie  Senate  will  by-and- 
by  interpose  as  a  breakwater  between  them  and  its  overwhelming 
force.      The   arrangement,  tluTclbre,   originally    entered  into   as   a 
protection  of  the  smaller  against  die  larger  states,  will  soon  be  found 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 


157 


of  the  last  importance  in  shielding  one  great  section  of  the  confede- 
racy against  any  abuse  of  the  growing  power  of  another,  in  pre- 
serving an  equipoise  between  the  commercial  interests  of  the  sea- 
board, and  the  great  agricultural  interest  of  the  interior.  So  rapid 
is  the  progress  of  this  political  transformation,  that,  but  for  an 
arrangement  adopted  with  other  objects,  a  monopoly  of  the  whole 
power  of  the  republic  would  soon  be  achieved  by  an  interest,  which, 
when  the  Constitution  was  framed,  had  scarcely  an  existence;  and 
the  whole  influence  of  the  country  be  centred  in  a  section  of  it, 
which  was,  at  that  time,  an  almost  unbroken  wilderness. 

The  only  change  incident  to  the  Senate,  is  the  increase  of  its  mem- 
bers consequent  upon  the  introduction  of  new  States  into  the  Union. 
Comprising  originally  only  twenty-six  members,  it  now  numbers 
sixty,  each  new  State  adding  two  members  to  the  body  of  the  Se- 
nate. 

One  of  the  chief  sources  of  the  conservative  tendencies  of  the  Se- 
nate is  to  be  found  in  this,  that  its  members,  holding  as  they  do  their 
seats  for  six  years,  are  not  so  immediately  amenable  to  popular  ca- 
price as  are  those  of  the  other  House  of  Congress,  which  returns 
every  second  year  to  the  people.  But  lest  so  long  a  lease  of  power 
should  place  the  Senate  for  several  years  together  in  antagonism 
with  public  opinion,  the  framers  of  the  Constitution  were  careful  to 
subject  it  to  a  wholesome  popular  influence  without  rendering  it  sub- 
servient to  popular  caprice.  They  consequendy  determined  that, 
as  the  House  of  Representatives  was  to  be  renewed  throughout  every 
two  years,  the  Senate  should  also,  to  the  extent  of  one-third  of  its 
whole  number,  be  renewed  every  second  year.  Thus,  whilst  it  is 
entirely  changed  every  six  years,  it  is  never  wholly  changed  at  once ; 
an  arrangement  which  renders  it  a  more  faithful  reflex  than  it  would 
otherwise  be  of  public  opinion,  in  a  country  where  public  opinion 
undergoes  such  frequent  and  violent  mutations;  and,  at  the  same 
time,  enables  it  to  bring  to  its  deliberations  a  large  share  of  legisla- 
tive experience,  which  generally  gives  to  them  quite  a  difl?erent  cast 
from  that  of  the  discussions  which  are  carried  on  in  the  other  wing 
of  the  Capitol. 

If,  in  its  executive  capacity,  the  Senate  differs  from  the  corre- 
sponding branch  of  the  legislature  in  this  country ;  it  also  further 
dilfers  from  it  in  this,  that,  with  the  exception  of  the  trial  of  impeach- 
ments, the  Lower  House  having  the  sole  power  to  impeach,  it  has 
no  judicial  functions,  no  appeal  lying  to  it  from  any  of  the  ordinary 
tribunals  of  the  country,  local  or  federal.  In  this  respect,  its  powers 
also  vary  from  those  of  many  of  the  State  Senates,  which  present 
themselves  in  the  triple  character  of  legislative,  executive,  and  judi- 
cial bodies,  an  appeal  in  most  cases  lying  to  them  in  the  last  resort 
from  the  local  tribunals.  When  in  executive  session,  the  proceed- 
ings of  the  Senate  are  conducted  with  closed  doors.  None  but  a  ci- 
VOL.  I.  — 14 


158  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

tizen  of  the  United  States,  of  the  ag-e  of  thirty  years,  can  be  a  mem' 
berof  the  Senate;  twenty-tive  being-  majority,  so  far  as  eUgibility  to 
the  House  of  Representatives  is  concerned. 

It  is  in  connexion  with  the  Senate,  as  a  legislative  body,  thatthe 
doctrine  of  instructions  has  been  more  particularly  contended  for  in 
America.  Representing,  as  they  do,  the  ditlerent  States  in  their 
collective  capacity,  many  parties  hold  that  the  vote  of  each  member, 
irrespectively  of  his  private  opinions,  should  accord  with  the  politi- 
cal views  prevailing,  for  the  time  being,  in  the  State  which  he  repre- 
sents. For  instance,  one  of  the  senators  for  New  York  may  be 
appointed  during  the  ascendency  of  the  AVhig  party  in  the  legisla- 
ture of  that  State.  Should  the  Democrats  turn  the  tables  on  their 
opponents  before  his  term  expires,  the  consequence  is,  that  a  demo- 
cratic Legislature  and  a  democratic  State  are,  it  is  contended,  misre- 
presented in  the  Senate,  if  the  senator  in  question  regulates  his  vote 
by  his  own  private  views.  It  sometimes  happens  that  a  democratic 
State  and  Les^islature  are  represented  by  two  AVhig  senators,  and 
vice  versa.  To  obviate  this  inconvenience  and  injustice,  as  it  is 
considered  in  some  quarters,  the  principle  of  instructions  has  been 
resorted  to;  which,  if  generally  carried  out,  would  draw  a  line  of 
separation  between  the  action  and  the  judgment  of  each  member  of 
the  Senate,  and  convert  him  into  a  mere  machine  for  recording  the 
ever-changing  opinions  of  others  at  a  distance.  The  general  recog- 
nition of  such  a  principle  would  destroy  the  conservative  character 
of  the  Senate,  by  rendering  it  as  subject  to  all  the  caprices  of  the 
popular  will,  as  is  the  House  of  Representatives.  It  is  a  principle, 
however,  but  partially  acted  upon,  being  as  fiercely  contested  as  it 
is  contended  for.  Instances  have  come  within  my  own  personal 
observation  of  senators  speaking  on  one  side  of  a  question,  and,  in 
obedience  to  instructions,  voting  on  the  other. 

The  legislative  body,  as  thus  constituted,  is  compelled  by  law  to 
assemble  once  in  each  year,  the  first  Monday  of  December  being 
the  day  appointed  for  its  meeting.  The  President  may,  however, 
convoke  an  extraordinary  session  whenever  the  exigencies  of  the 
public  service  may  appear  to  him  to  require  it.  Once  assembled, 
the  power  of  adjournment  or  prorogation  is  in  the  hands  of  the  two 
Houses  exclusively;  with  this  exception,  that  every  second  year, 
the  Congress,  which  lasts  for  two  years,  being  measured  by  the 
duration  of  the  House  of  Representatives,  expires  by  law  on  the 
4th  day  of  March.  But  it  is  now  time  to  consider  the  mode  in  which 
parties  are  elected  to  the  cliief  executive  offices  in  the  republic. 

None  but  a  native-born  citizen  of  the  United  States  is  eligible  to 
the  office  of  President.  When  elected,  he  retains  his  post  for  four 
years,  at  the  end  of  whicli  period  he  may  be  re-elected  for  another 
term  of  equal  duration.  There  is  nothing  in  the  Constitution  to 
prevent  an  eligible  candidate  from  being  elected  a  dozen  different 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  159 

limes  to  the  Presidency,  altliongli  custom  has  limited  the  longest 
presidential  career  to  two  terms,  or  eight  yeai-s. 

'J'he  Prcsidental  election,  like  most  elections  in  America,  occurs 
in  the  month  of  November,  but  only  once  every  four  years.  The 
nomination  of  candidates  takes  place,  generally  speaking,  during 
the  previous  May  or  June.  The  mode  of  nomination  is  this. 
Each  of  the  great  parties  appoints  delegates  to  meet  at  a  given  place, 
on  a  given  day,  in  a  national  party  convention,  for  the  purpose  of 
selecting,  from  the  party  ranks,  the  most  available  candidate  for  the 
coming  contest.  Party  disciplnie  is  sufficiently  strong  to  guaranty 
for  the  person  nominated  on  either  side,  the  general  support  of  the 
respective  parties.  Each  party  has  its  own  central  national  com- 
mittee, which  manages  every  thing  up  to  the  nomination ;  after  which 
ihe  issue  is  generally  left  to  the  local  efforts,  throughout  the  country, 
of  the  political  friends  of  the  candidate. 

Although  elected  by  the  people,  in  contradistinction  to  an  election 
hy  States,  the  President  is  not  immediately  elected  by  the  popular 
vote  at  the  ballot-box.  It  is  not  directly  for  eitlier  of  the  candi- 
<lates  nominated  that  the  adherents  of  either  party  vote,  but  for  the 
electoral  colleges,  by  whose  votes  the  issue  is  afterwards  to  be  de- 
cided. Each  State  has  its  own  electoral  college,  consisting  of  as 
many  members  as  the  State  has  representatives  in  both  Houses  of 
Congress.  Thus,  if  New  York  has  thirty-four  members  in  the 
Lower  House  and  two  in  the  Upper,  her  electoral  college  will  con- 
sist of  thirty-six  ;  whereas  that  of  Delaware  will  consist  but  of  three, 
that  State  having  but  one  member  in  the  House  of  Representatives, 
and  two  in  the  Senate.  The  two  parties  in  each  State  have  each 
their  own  electoral  "  ticket;"  and  according  as  the  Whig  or  Demo- 
cratic ticket  carries  the  day,  will  be  the  vote  of  the  State  for  the 
presidential  candidate.  The  electoral  ticket  being  a  general  one  in 
each  State,  the  triumphant  party  carries  with  it  the  whole  electoral 
vote  of  the  State.  Thus  New  York,  in  the  case  supposed,  would 
give,  in  the  event  of  the  Whigs  succeeding,  tl  e  whole  of  her  thirty- 
six  votes  for  the  Whig  candidate.  The  successful  candidate  is  he 
who  has  got  a  clear  majority,  not  of  all  the  electoral  colleges,  but  of 
the  aggregate  number  of  members  composing  all  the  electoral  col- 
legos.  If  it  were  odierwise,  the  decision  would  be  by  States,  not 
by  the  people  at  large.  Taking  the  House  of  Representatives  to 
consist  of  230  members,  we  have,  with  the  sixty  composing  the  Se- 
nate, an  aggregate  of  290,  which  would  be  the  aggregate  number  of 
all  the  electors  in  the  electoral  colleges  throughout  the  Union.  It 
would  in  that  case  require  the  vote  of  146  at  least  for  a  choice. 
This  mode,  by  giving  New  York,  say  thirty-six  voices,  and  Dela- 
Avare  three,  gives  certainly  to  the  different  States  very  different  de- 
grees of  influence  over  the  presidential  contest ;  but  as  the  Presi- 
dent is  to  spring  from,  and  to  represent  the  whole  people,  no  other 


100  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

arrang-ement  would  be  compatible  witli  his  so  doing;  for  it  is  clear 
that  a  candidate  might  have  a  majority  of  the  States,  but  not  a  ma- 
jority of  the  people. 

But  when  no  clear  majority  of  the  aggregate  number  of  all  the 
electoral  colleges  appears,  from  there  Ijeing  more  than  two  candi- 
dates in  the  field,  or  from  any  other  cause,  in  favour  of  any  one 
candidate,  and  when  there  is  consequently  no  election  by  the  peo- 
ple, instead  of  a  new  election  being  resorted  to,  the  Constitution  has 
provided  for  the  choice  then  devolving  upon  a  different  quarter. 
'J'he  electoral  colleges  having  failed  to  do  that  for  which  alone  they 
were  elected,  are,  ipso  facto,  dissolved,  and  the  choice  of  President 
falls  upon  the  House  of  Representatives  for  the  time  being.  But 
the  vote  is  not  then  per  capifr,  but  by  States,  in  which  case  the  one 
member  for  Delaware  in  that  House  has  as  j^reat  a  voice  in  the 
matter  as  the  whole  tliirty-four  from  New  York.  The  contest  is 
then  decided  by  the  majority  of  States,  it  being,  now  that  there 
are  thirty  States,  necessary  that  sixteen  of  them  should  in  such 
case  vote  for  one  or  other  of  the  candidates.  The  House  is  limit- 
ed in  its  choice  to  the  candidates,  not  exceeding  three  who  received 
the  greatest  number  of  votes  from  the  people.  Should  there  be  no 
choice  at  first  by  the  House,  successive  bailotings  are  resorted  to, 
vintil  an  election  takes  place.  On  two  separate  occasions  already 
has  the  election  thus  devolved  upon  the  House  of  Representatives, 
and  it  was  not,  on  the  first  of  these,  until  upwards  of  thirty  ballots 
had  been  taken,  that  Mr.  Jefferson  was  elected  by  a  bare  majority. 
Formerly,  he  who  had  the  next  greatest  number  of  votes  for  the 
presidency  became  Vice-President.  So  long  as  this  remained  the 
rule,  it  is  very  obvious  that  the  President  and  Vice-President  must 
generally,  when  elected,  have  belonged  to  diflerent  parties;  for 
who  so  likely  to  have  the  next  highest  number  of  votes  to  that  given 
for  the  successful  candidate,  as  his  opponent?  The  inconvenience 
of  such  an  arrangement  was  felt  by  all  parties,  inasmuch  as  its  ten- 
dency was  to  put  in  jeopardy  all  party  triumphs;  for  if  any  casu- 
alty happened  to  the  President,  the  nominee  of  the  defeated  party 
became  President  in  his  stead.  To  remedy  this  the  alteration  was 
made  in  the  Constitution  by  which  the  party  successful  for  the  time 
being  fill  both  offices  with  their  own  nominees;  it  being  now  the 
rule  for  each  party  to  nominate  a  candidate  for  the  vice-presidency, 
when  one  is  nominated  for  the  presidency,  and  to  vote  for  the  one 
as  vice-president,  as  the  other  is  voted  for  as  president.  They  are 
thus  nominated  together,  voted  for  together,  and  elected  together. 
Both  the  President  and  Vice-President  may  be  inhabitants  of  the 
same  State;  but  the  people  of  each  Slate,  in  voting  for  the  candi- 
dates, must  vote  for  one  at  least  who  is  not  an  inliabitant  of  their 
own  State.  Thus  the  Whig  or  Democratic  nominees  for  the  two 
offices  may  both  be  from  tlie  State  of  Virginia.     In  that  case,  the 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 


161 


people  of  nil  the  other  States  may  vote  for  them,  but  the  people  of 
V^iririnia  in  votiiiir  would  be  required  to  substitute  an  inhabitant  of 
sonie  other  State  for  one  of  them.  But  the  candidates  are  generally 
inhabitants  of  diilerent  States.  As  the  Vice-President  may  be 
called  upon  to  act  as  President,  he  too  must  be  a  native-born  citi- 
zen of  the  United  States. 

Such  is  the  mode  in  which  a  great  people  proceed  in  the  choice 
of  their  own  first  magistrate.     It  argues  much  in  favour  of  the  per- 
manency of  the  political   institutions  of  America,  that  nearly  sixty 
vears  have  gone  by  without   their  having  been    shaken    to    their 
foundations    by    the  successive   and    periodic   contests    for   such  a 
prize.     To  keep  the  office  one  of  purely  popular  origin,  and  at  the 
same  time  to  counteract  the  excitement  naturally  attendant  upon 
an  election  to  fill  it,  was  the  great  object  of  the  authors  of  the  Con- 
stitution; and  it  was  with  this  view  that  they  interposed  the  electo- 
ral bodies  between  parties  and  their  candidates,  and  devolved  the 
whole  matter  upon  the  House  of  Representatives,  in  the  event  of 
there  being  no  popular  choice.      Many  in  America  regard  the  presi- 
dential election  as  thegreattest  of  the  soundness  of  the  Constitution; 
and  some  great  authorities,  such  as  Chancellor  Kent,*  are  ready  to 
pin  their  faitli  to  its  permanency,  provided  it  withstand   the  shocks 
of  a  few  more  contests  of  the  \ind.     Much,  however,  in  the  way 
of  the  maintenance  of  tranquillity  on  those  occasions,  is  attributable 
to  the  short   term    for  which   the  President   iy  elected.     Were   he, 
when  once  chosen,  to  hold  office  for  life,  or  for  a  much  longer  pe- 
riod than  he  now  does,  without  re-election,  the  stake  would  be  all 
the  more  important,  and  the  struggle  all  the  more  desperate.    There 
are    many  objections  to  a  double  presidential    term,  the  chief  of 
which  is,'  that    the  first  term  is  generally  treated  as   mere  election- 
eering ground  for  securing  the  second.     To  make  the  term  extend 
to  eight  years  would  be  hazardous;  and  to  confine  the  President  to 
a  single  term  of  four  years,  would  be  to  restrict  the  office  by  limits 
unnecessarily  contracted.     To  get  rid  of  the  evils  of  double  terms, 
and  at  the  same  time  to  avoid  the  dangers  of  too  greatly  extending 
a  single  term,  some  propose  that  the  President  should,  in  future,  be 
eligible  for  only  one  term,  extending  over  six  years.     Hov/  far  this 
would  avoid  difficulty,  on  the  one  hand,  and  prevent  abuse  on  the 
other,  it  is  not  necessary  here  to  inquire.     The  difficulty  might  be 
overcome    by  the  adoption  of  the    rule  forming  part  of  the  new 
French  constitution,  which    requires   that  a  term  should   intervene 
before  any  one  holding  the  office  of  President  can  be  re-elected  for 
a  second  term.     This,  it  is  supposed,  will  effectually  prevent  the 
first  term  from  being  made  use  of  to  influence  the  elections  for   the 
second.     By  the  adoption  of  a  similar  rule  the  Americans  would 

*  This  eminent  jurist  has  died  since  the  above  was  written. 

14* 


162  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

remove  the  evil  of  which  lliey  now  complain,  witliout  lengthening 
the  duration  of  the  presidential  term,  a  step  which  would  be  attend- 
ed with  no  little  peril. 

The  power  and  position  of  the  President  do  not  constitute  those 
features  in  the  federal  system,  which  give  to  all  parties  the  greatest 
satisfaction.  His  position  is,  in  many  respects,  more  analogous  to 
that  of  the  prime  minister,  than  to  that  of  the  sovereign  of  this 
country.  In  this,  however,  it  differs  materially  from  the  position 
of  the  head  of  the  Cabinet  here,  that  for  a  given  time  the  President's 
tenure  of  power  is  certain,  without  reference  to  the  state  of  public 
opinion.  So  long  as  the  executive  and  legislative  departments  are 
in  accord,  this  is  of  little  consequence — but  the  evil  is  felt  in  all  its 
magnitude  when  the  executive  is  at  war  with  public  opinion,  and 
■with  Congress  as  its  representative.  With  us  such  a  state  of  things 
would  lead  to  a  speedy  dissolution  of  the  Cabinet;  but  not  so  in 
America,  where  the  head  of  the  Cabinet  has  a  fixed  tenure  of  office. 
A  President  may  be  for  three-fourths  of  his  administration  at  logger- 
heads with  all  parties  around  him,  public  opinion  being  impotent  to 
displace  him,  until  it  can  next  constitutionally  apply  itself  to  the 
ballot-box.  This,  considering  the  legislative  influence  which  the 
President  wields  through  the  veto  power,  occasionally*impedes  for 
a  time  the  course  of  legislation,  the  President  having  it  in  his  power 
to  foil  all  the  eiforts  of  Congress,  except  in  the  very  rare  case  of  a 
majority  of  two-thirds  being  opposed  to  him  in  either  House.  This 
temporary  independence  on  the  part  of  the  executive,  of  pubhe 
opinion,  which  may  sometimes  occur,  is  not  only  a  blunder  in  the 
theory  of  the  Constitution,  but  it  is  also  one,  the  practical  evils  of 
which  have  been  gravely  felt,  on  more  occasions  than  one;  and  it 
is  the  actual  occurrence  of  these  evils,  more  than  their  theoretical 
possibdity,  which  has  led  many  to  regard  this  as  the  weak  point  of 
the  system.  Few,  however,  who  do  so,  are  ready  even  to  hazard 
a  conjecture  as  to  the  mode  of  applying  a  remedy,  the  object 
being  to  bring  the  executive  office  into  more  thorough  subordination 
to  public  opinion,  but  the  mode  of  securing  it  being  extremely  diffi- 
cult to  devise.  The  patronage  of  the  President  is  great,  and  some- 
times very  unscrupulously  exercised. 

In  contemplating  the  general  polity  of  the  American  Union,  one 
cannot  fail  being  struck  with  the  anomalous  position  occupied  in 
the  constitutional  system  by  the  Vice-President.  This  functionary, 
although  the  death,  disability,  or  absence  of  the  President,  may  de- 
volve upon  him  at  any  moment  the  chief  responsibilities  of  the 
executive  government,  has  no  seat  in  the  Cabinet,  being  as  much  a 
stranger  to  its  deliberations  and  its  policy  as  the  humblest  of  his 
constituents.  As  both  the  President  and  Vice-President  invariably 
belong  to  the  same  political  party,  one  would  think  that  it  would 
be  insisted  upon  as  subservient  to  party  interests,  that  the  man  who 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  163 

may  be  on  any  day  called  upon  to  administer  the  government, 
should  be  fully  cognizant  of  the  policy  pursued  by  the  President 
and  his  Cabinet.  But  the  views  of  the  government,  and  the  mo- 
tives which  influence  them,  are  as  a  sealed  book  to  him,  except  so 
far  as  he  may  guess  at,  as  others  may  do,  or  surreptitiously  acquire 
a  knowledge  of,  them.  Politically  speaking,  he  is  a  complete  non- 
entity, his  only  duty  being  to  preside  ex  officio  over  the  dehberations 
of  the  Senate.  And  yet  this  is  the  man  whom  the  accident  of  a 
moment  may  place  at  the  head  of  aflJ'airs,  and  to  whom  his  party 
look  for  carrying  out  its  policy,  should  the  President  be  by  any 
cause  removed.  He  is  sometimes  treated  with  the  most  singular  in- 
difference by  the  President,  and  by  the  various  heads  of  the  depart- 
ments; a  species  of  treatment  but  ill  calculated  to  secure  a  cordial 
CO  operation  between  him  and  the  President's  Cabinet,  should  he  be 
called  upon  to  take  the  President's  place.  This  cordiality  was  far 
from  existing  in  the  only  instance  in  which  the  presidential  office 
has  as  yet  devolved  upon  a  Vice-President.  The  Cabinet  of  Gene- 
ral Harrison  treated  Mr.  Tyler  with  the  utmost  contempt,  and  felt  ra- 
ther uncomfortable  when,  by  the  death  of  the  President,  about  a 
month  after  the  installation  of  the  Whig  regime  at  Washington,  the 
man  to  whom  they  had  unreservedly  given  the  cold  shoulder,  sud- 
denly appeared  among  them  as  their  head  and  master.  The  result 
was  but  natural.  One  by  one,  Mr.  Tyler  got  rid  of  the  members 
of  the  Cabinet  which  his  predecessor  had  formed,  and  afterwards 
wrecked  his  own  reputation  and  ruined  his  party,  by  attempting  to 
play  a  slippery  game  between  the  two  great  parties  in  the  country. 
Had  Mr.  Tyler  been  a  member  of  the  Cabinet  before  he  was  called 
to  the  head  of  aff^airs,  he  might  have  fallen  in  with  the  views  and 
objects  of  his  party,  instead  of  being  alienated  from  them,  as  he 
was  by  the  supercilious  conduct  of  its  chiefs.  The  very  party  that 
elected  him  lost  its  golden  opportunity  by  the  accession  of  Mr. 
Tyler  to  the  Presidency;  but  whether  the  Union  lost  or  gained  by 
his  administration,  is  quite  another  question.  The  darling  Whig 
policy  of  the  day  was  the  re-establishment  of  the  National  Bank. 
A  bill  which  passed  both  Houses  of  Congress  for  that  purpose,  was 
vetoed  by,  to  use  a  seeming  paradox,  the  accidental  President  of  a 
Whig  choice. 

The  territorial  government  of  the  United  States  is  partly  vested 
in  the  federal  executive,  and  partiy  in  the  people  of  the  diflferent 
territories  themselves.  The  territories  are  such  portions  of  the 
public  domain  as  are  being  rapidly  settled,  and  have  had  limits  as- 
signed to  them,  with  a  view  to  their  eventually  becoming  members 
of  the  Confederacy  as  States.  This  they  become  on  their  attain- 
ing a  population  of  80,000  souls.  Until  they  are  admitted  as 
Stales,  their  aff*airs  are  respectively  administered  by  a  Governor  ap- 
pointed by  the  President,  who  co-operates  with  a  legislature  chosen 


164  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

])y  the  people  of  tlie  lerritoiy.  Tlicy  send  representatives  to  Con- 
gress, who  can  speak,  but  have  no  vote.  All  the  States,  with  tlie 
exception  of  Vermont,  which  have  been  admitted  since  the  original 
thirteen  established  their  independence,  were  territories  before  be- 
coming States. 

So  far  the  political  system  of  America  has  been  glanced  at  only 
in  its  connexion  with  the  Confederation  in  its  collective  capacity. 
The  federal  constitution  is  but  a  component  part  of  the  entire  sys- 
tem— the  most  prominent  to  us,  because  it  is  tlirough  its  means  that 
the  Republic  is  brought  into  connexion  with  the  exterior  world. 
But  it  is  far  from  being  the  great  feature,  or  the  most  imposing  ingre- 
dient in  the  constitution  of  the  "whole  body  politic.  The  portion  of 
their  constitutional  scheme  most  worthy  of  study,  and  most  replete 
with  hope  or  apprehension  for  mankind,  is  that  by  which  their  in- 
ternal affairs  are  regulated  ;  by  which  the  relations  between  man 
and  man,  amongst  them,  are  defined  and  enforced:  by  ^vhich  their 
industry  is  stimulated,  their  enterprise  fostered,  and  life,  property, 
and  reputation  are  protected.  If  we  would  understand  the  working 
of  the  principle  of  self-government,  which  lies  at  the  foundation  of 
all  their  institutions,  we  must  look  beyond  the  machinery  chiefly 
contrived  for  the  maintenance  of  their  external  relations,  and  view 
the  system  to  which  this  is  a  mere  incident,  in  its  broader,  deeper, 
and  more  important  character  as  affecting  the  great  scheming,  enter- 
prising, speculating,  and  industrious  hive  at  home. 

It  will  be  gathered  from  what  has  already  been  said,  that  the  federal 
government  and  legislature  have  but  little  concern  with  tbe  internal 
affairs  of  the  country.  Such  powers  as  are  not  expressly  conferred 
upon  the  general  government  by  the  Constitution,  are,  by  implica- 
tion, reserved  to  the  different  States.  No  control  over  matters  of  a 
purely  local  character  having  been  conceded  to  it,  it  follows  that 
such  matters  remain  under  the  exclusive  management  of  the  States 
themselves.  On  all  questions  of  a  nature  purely  domestic,  and 
affecting  its  own  ijiterests,  each  State  is  entitled  to  act  a  sovereign 
and  independent  part  for  itself.  Thus,  over  all  matters  connected 
with  the  material  improvement  of  the  State,  such  as  the  construction 
of  roads,  railways,  and  canals — with  the  regulation  of  its  financial 
system — willi  its  criminal  and  its  penal  legislation — with  its  judicial 
and  ministerial  arrangements,  or  with  taxation,  whether  for  State  or 
local  purposes,  the  people  of  each  State  have  reserved  to  themselves 
exclusive  jurisdiction.  They  have,  of  course,  as  States,  no  power 
over  taxes  or  imposts,  which,  being  designed  so'ely  for  the  support 
of  the  general  government,  can  only  be  imposed  by  it.  Each,  for  the 
common  benefit  of  all,  has  parted  with  some  of  its  inherent  powers, 
and  vested  them  in  the  federal  government;  but,  beyond  these  ex- 
ceptions, its  jurisdiction  within  its  own  limits  is  as  supreme  as  if 
no  confederation  existed.     'IMius  no  State  can,  bv  itself,  enter  into 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  165 

any  treaty  whatever  with  a  foreign  power.  It  can  contract  no 
alliance  with  a  foreign  government,  or  with  any  other  State  or  States. 
It  can  neither  declare  war  nor  make  peace  by  itself;  nor  can  it  coin 
money,  support  an  army  or  navy,  or  pass  any  particular  laws  of 
naturalization  for  itself.  But  it  possesses  every  power  which  a 
State  can  wield,  beyond  these  and  some  others  conceded  to  the  ge- 
neral government.  Thus,  although  it  cannot  coin  money,  it  can 
borrow  it;  and,  as  it  seems,  even  when  it  cannot  always  repay  it. 
And  in  borrowing  money,  it  has  no  power  to  pledge  any  other 
credit  but  its  own  ;  a  fact  which  should  be  borne  in  mind  by  such 
capitalists  as  are  apt  to  delude  themselves  with  the  idea  that  they 
can  look,  in  case  of  default,  for  payment,  to  the  sister  States,  or  to 
the  general  government. 

It  will  be  seen,  then,  that  the  Union  consists  of  thirty  different 
communities,  having  no  political  concern  or  connexion  with  each 
other,  beyond  that  which  exists  on  the  common  ground  on  which 
they  all  meet  at  Washington.  Thus  New  York  has  no  connexion 
whatever  with  Pennsylvania,  except  that  which  is  traced  through  the 
medium  of  the  federal  Constitution.  This  remark  does  not  apply 
to  the  powerful  tie  of  material  interests  which  unites  them  all,  or  at 
least  sections  of  them,  together  in  bonds,  stronger  than  any  which 
mere  political  systems  could  create.  But  in  mutually  prosecuting 
their  material  interests,  their  legislation  is  separate  and  independent, 
although  a  common  interest  frequently  dictates  a  common  policy. 

Not  only  are  the  different  States  independent  communities  in  fact, 
but  they  exhibit  all  the  outward  forms  and  manifestations  of  such. 
Each  embodies  its  separate  political  existence  in  a  separate  institu- 
tional system  ;  the  basis  of  which  is,  in  all  cases,  a  State  Constitu- 
tion, which  generally  opens  with  an  assertion  of  the  sovereignty 
of  the  people  of  the  State.  They  have  their  own  governors,  their 
own  legislatures,  their  own  judicial  and  municipal  systems,  their 
own  militia  for  self-defence,  their  own  political  organization  for 
every  exigency,  in  short,  which  does  not  come  within  the  supervi- 
sion and  control  of  the  United  States.  This  w411  suffice  to  give  the 
reader  a  general  idea,  which  is  all  that  can  be  here  attempted,  of 
the  mutual  relations  between  the  States  and  the  federal  government, 
and  their  respective  positions  in  the  general  system  of  the  Union. 

It  is  this  division  and  distribution  of  authority  that  give  to  the 
political  machine  so  complicated  a  character  in  America.  It  is  true 
that  there  is  but  one  line  drawn,  that  which  separates  general  from 
local  jurisdiction;  but  it  is  not  always  easy  to  determine  on  which 
side  of  the  line  certain  questions  should  fall.  A  struggle  is  thus, 
more  or  less,  constantly  \vaged  between  the  federal  and  local  autho- 
rities, the  States  being  extremely  jealous  of  any  thing  that  savours  of 
encroachment  by  the  general  government  on  their  rights.  The  great 
object  is  to  confine  the  action  of  the  general  government  within  the 


1(36  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

smallest  ronipjiss  conipfilible  witli  the  due  dischnrjre  of  its  fiiiirtioiis. 
Whilst  certain  powers  are  conlbrred  upon  it  by  the  Constitution,  tiiat 
document  also  concedes  to  it  in  general  terms  the  right  of  adoptiuj^ 
all  such  measures  as  are  necessary  for  carrying  its  specified  powers 
into  elfect;  and  it  is  in  acting  on  this  general  power,  more  than  in  any 
thing  else,  perhaps,  that  the  local  and  federal  authorities  are  brought 
most  frequently  into  contlict.  One  party,  for  instance,  denies  the  con- 
stitutional power  of  Congress  to  create  a  National  Bank ;  the  other 
party  contends  for  it,  under  the  general  clause  alluded  to,  as  being  the 
best  means  of  enabling  the  government  properly  to  manage  the  fis- 
cal affairs  of  the  Union.  Some,  again,  contend  for  the  power  of  Con- 
gress to  construct  roads  throughout  the  Union  without  the  consent  of 
the  States  through  which  they  might  pass,  as  being  one  of  the  means 
best  calculated  to  carry  out  the  power  specifically  conferred  upon 
them  of  providing  for  the  common  defence.  Others  dissent,  on  the 
ground,  that  if  such  a  principle  were  admitted,  the  general  govern- 
ment might,  upon  the  same  plea,  construct  railways  and  canals 
through  any  State  or  number  of  States.  The  consequence  is,  that 
a  great  national  road,  intended  to  unite,  with  a  view  to  military 
amongst  other  purposes,  the  city  of  Baltimore,  on  the  Chesapeake, 
with  that  of  St.  Louis,  on  the  Mississippi,  has  been  suspended  until 
this  dispute  is  settled,  although  nearly  two  hundred  miles  of  it  have 
been  already  completed.  So  far,  however,  as  questions  of  this  na- 
ture go,  involving,  as  they  do,  the  disbursement  of  the  common  re- 
venue, the  real  source  of  the  objection  may  be  found  in  the  mutual 
jealousy  of  the  States;  Maine,  for  instance,  being  unwilling  that  the 
common  fund,  to  which  she  contributes,  should  be  applied  for  the 
more  immediate  benefit  of  other  sections  of  the  Union.  I  must  con- 
fess that  there  are  good  grounds  for  this  jealousy,  considering  the 
propensity  to  jobbing  discovered  by  the  federal  authorities.  Indeed, 
in  this  respect,  I  have  heard  several  Americans  declare,  tliat  they 
believed  their  own  government  to  be  the  most  corrupt  on  earth.  But 
it  is  not  only  on  legislative  points  that  the  general  government  now 
and  then  finds  itself  at  loggerheads  with  the  States,  the  federal  judi- 
ciary being  frequently  in  conflict  with  the  local  tribunals.  But  more 
of  this  in  its  proper  place.  Enough  has  here  been  said  to  indicate 
how  frequenUy  local  and  federal  jurisdiction  so  closely  approximate 
that  it  is  difficult  to  distinguish  the  line  of  their  separation — and  to 
show  how  easy  it  is  for  the  Union  to  come  in  collision  with  its 
different  parts;  whilst  it  will  appear  from  the  rapid  coup-iVceil 
which  has  thus  been  taken  of  the  constitutional  system  in  its  two- 
fold aspect,  that  the  political  organization  of  America,  so  far  from 
being  the  simple  thing  which  many  suppose  it  to  be,  is  a  machine 
complicated  in  its  structure,  and  delicate  in  its  working. 

It  is  not  uncommon,  in  the  annual  messages  through  which  the 
President  communicates,  at  its  opening,  the  condition  of  the  country 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  167 

to  Congress,  to  find  it  asserted  that  the  experience  of  the  Republic 
has  already  sufficed  to  demonstrate  the  efficiency  of  the  principle  of 
self-government.  So  far  as  it  is  applicabl )  to  the  American  people 
themselves,  the  assertion,  perhaps,  cannot  be  impugned;  but  the 
proof  which  they  have  given  of  their  aptitude  for  self-government 
cannot  be  taken  as  evidence  of  the  stability  of  tlieir  present  system. 
The  dissolution  of  the  Union  would  not  necessarily  imply  the  anni- 
hilation of  the  principle  of  self-government  in  America.  That  prin- 
ciple might,  in  new  forms  and  under  other  manifestations,  long 
survive  the  wreck  of  the  confederacy.  The  question  in  which  we 
are  most  interested,  and  that  which  is  involved  in  the  greatest  doubt, 
has  less  to  do  with  the  maintenance  of  democratic  institutions  in 
America,  than  with  the  stability  of  the  Federal  Union.  AVe  fear 
that,  in  this  respect,  the  experiences  of  the  past  are  more  pregnant 
with  warning  than  suggestive  of  security.  The  Americans  must 
bear  in  mind  that  their  system,  although  it  has  withstood  many,  and 
some  very  rude,  shocks,  has  not  yet  encountered  danger  in  some  of 
the  most  terrible  forms  in  which  it  is  competent  to  assail  it.  The 
ship  that  has  withstood  many  a  rough  sea,  and  is  capable  of  weather- 
ing many  more,  may  perish  in  a  moderate  gale  if  her  cargo  shifts, 
or  her  ballast  is  disturbed.  There  is  but  little  fear  of  the  American 
system  sustaining  any  very  serious  injury  from  external  violerce. 
The  danger  is  that,  whilst  all  is  calm  and  serene  without,  the  ele- 
ments of  disorder  may  be  accumulating  within.  And  this  is  not  a 
danger  which  the  Americans  can  afford  to  despise.  Their  constant 
exhortations  to  each  other  to  regard  the  Union  as  paramount  to  all 
other  political  considerations,  show  that  they  appreciate  the  danger, 
and  that  they  look  upon  the  very  greatness  of  the  Confederation 
as,  in  itself,  an  element  of  peril,  comprising,  as  it  does,  geographical 
distinctions  which  may  be  incompatible  with  permanent  union,  and 
a  diversity  of  interests  which  may  yet  prove  an  over-match  for 
patriotism.  And  should  a  serious  shock  come  from  within — should 
a  mine  be  sprung  beneath  the  capital  itself — to  what  quarter  could 
the  general  government  resort  with  confidence  for  aid.  A  common 
object  or  a  common  danger,  may  arm  it  with  power  for  external 
action ;  but  the  Union  has  yet  afforded  no  evidence  that,  in  the  pre- 
sence of  internal  convulsion,  it  would  not  prove  itself  a  house  of 
cards.  Some  years  ago  a  mob  assailed  the  State  legislature  in  the. 
capital  of  Pennsylvania,  and  the  members  had  to  fly  for  their  lives. 
To  quell  the  tumult  the  governor  had  to  send  to  Philadelphia  for 
detachments  of  militia,  for  he  could  place  no  reliance  on  the  militia 
of  Harrisburgh  and  its  vicinity,  a  moiety  of  whom  were  at  least  fel- 
low-partisans with  the  rioters.  Nor  was  the  succour  which  he  re- 
ceived from  Philadelphia  of  the  most  reliable  kind ;  a  large  proportion 
of  the  militia,  in  fact  of  the  whole  State,  having  party  sympathies 
with  the  disturbers  of  the  public  peace,  and  being,  therefore,  not 


168  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

very  likely  to  act  with  much  energy  against  them.     Luckily  the 
commotion  subsided  before  the  cohesive  powers  of  the  common- 
wealth were  put  to  the  threatened  test.     And  in  what  predicament 
would  the  federal  executive  find  itself  in  the  presence  of  a  similar 
but  more  extended  disaster.     The  United  States  army,  even  if  faith- 
ful to  the  ofovernment,  would  have  no  more  effect  in  quelling  a 
popular  outbreak,  than  the  words  of  Canute  had  in  checking  the 
approaches  of  the  sea.   Would  the  government  not  find  itself  deserted 
on  all  hands,  considering  that  at  such  a  time  political  objects  are,  in 
a  popular  slate,  most  readily  subserved,  by  unscrupulous  politicians, 
by  siding  with  the  people  against  power  in  any  shape?     That  this 
is  not  a  mere  fanciful  danger  is  proved  by  historical  events  of  a  very 
recent  period.     In  1832,  when  South  Carolina  threatened  to  dis- 
sever the   Union,  her  troops  were  exposed  in  daily  parade  in  the 
streets  of  Charleston,  side  by  side  with  those  of  the  government, 
with  whom  the  exciting  events  of  each  day  might  have  brought  them 
in  collision.     What  a  lesson  is  conveyed  by  this  open,  undisguised, 
and  defiant  preparation  for  resistance  to  the  constituted  authorities 
of  the  country!     It  is  true  that,  in  this  instance,  the  central  govern- 
ment was  strong,  because  the  turbulent  State  stood  alone,  the  prin- 
ciples which  she  advocated  being  distasteful  to  the  great  mass  of  the 
people.    Nullification,  of  which  South  Carolina  was  and  still  is  the 
champion,  was  a  doctrine  odious  to  the  vast  majority  of  American 
people ;  and  the  probability  is,  that  had  South  Carolina  ventured  to 
carry  it  out  by  an  insurrectionary  movement,  she  would  have  been 
crushed  in  the  attempt.     But  this  no  one  can  with  certainty  affirm, 
for,  in  a  country  like  the  United  States,  the  consequence  of  a  blow 
once  struck,  no  matter  from  what  cause  or  with  what  success  at  first, 
would  be  utterly  unforeseen.     It  was  the  conviction  of  this  which 
caused  every  friend  of  the  Union  to  rejoice  that  the  squabble,  which 
convulsed  the  petty  State  of  Rhode  Island  in  1842,  was  terminated 
without  the  intervention  of  United  States  troops.     I  do  not  say,  that 
the  consUtution  would  not  be  proof  against  domestic  convulsion,  but 
with  recent  events  still  fresh  in  their  recollection  even  Americans 
can  hardly  assure  themselves  that  it  would  be  equal  to  such  an 
emergency.     They  should  remember,  that  although  there  may  be 
much  in  America  to  favour  the  growth  and  stability  of  the  principle 
of  self-government,  the  confederation,  at  least,  is   surrounded    by 
many  perils ;  and  that,  although  democracy  with  them  may  be  inde- 
structible, there  may,  neverth?less,  be  quicksands  at  the  foundations 
of  the  Union. 

It  was  with  a  view  to  making  adequate  provision  to  meet  all  the 
dangers  to  which  the  federal  system  might  be  exposed,  both  from 
without  and  within,  that,  in  the  early  days  of  the  republic,  a  party 
arose,  who  have  since  become  so  odious,  under  the  designation  of 
Federalists.    Their  object  was  to  form  a  strong  central  government  at 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  169 

Washington,  not  such  as  would  swamp  the  legitimate  authority  of 
the  States  within  their  respective  limits,  but  such  as  would  consoli- 
date the  political  system,  by  forming  it  into  a  more  compact  unity, 
with  all  its  parts  in  proper  subordination;  and  as  would  enable  the 
general  government  to  act  with  promptitude  and  vigour  for  its  own 
protection,  w^henever  its  existence  might  be  endangered  by  a  revo- 
lutionary movement.  It  was  in  opposition  to  this  party  that  was 
immediately  organized  that  of  the  democratic  republicans,  headed 
by  Mr.  Jefferson,  the  "  Apostle  of  Democracy,"  and  basing  itself 
upon  the  principle  of  State  Rights,  in  contradistinction  to  that  of 
centralization.  In  the  eyes  of  those  composing  this  party,  the  federal 
government  was  only  a  necessary  evil,  which  must  be  endured,  but 
which  should  not  be  strengthened.  Their  policy  was,  therefore,  to 
reduce  its  authority  to  the  lowest  practicable  point,  and  to  prevent 
it  from  becoming  dangerous  by  keeping  it,  as  it  were,  in  a  state  of 
constant  political  inanition.  Besides,  it  would  be  alien,  they  con- 
tended, to  the  whole  spirit  in  which  their  institutions  were  conceived, 
to  place  any  portion  of  the  system  beyond  the  reach  of  revolutionary 
action.  The  people's  right  to  revolutionize  their  government  at 
pleasure  lies  at  the  foundation  of  the  whole  system,  and  federalism,  in 
its  more  odious  sense,  would  be  but  a  practical  denial  of  that  right. 
Thus  were  the  parties  originally,  and  thus  have  they  ever  since 
continued  at  issue,  the  one  simply  contending  for  so  strengthening 
an  indispensable  feature  in  the  political  scheme,  as  to  enable  it, 
under  all  circumstances,  to  answer  the  purposes  of  its  creation;  the 
other  resisting  with  the  popular  cry  of  State  Rights,  which  the  fede- 
ralists never  dreamt  of  invading,  and  which  could  only  be  compro- 
mised by  pushing  their  doctrines  to  an  extreme.  They  both  equally 
professed  a  reverence  for  the  Union,  differing  only  in  the  price 
which  they  were  willing  to  pay  for  what  was  admittedly  so  great  a 
blessing.  Their  foresight  has  yet  to  be  proved,  and  it  will  be  well 
for  the  Union,  when  the  day  of  trial  arrives,  if  the  apprehensions 
of  now  extinguished  federalism  are  found  to  have  been  utterly 
groundless.  These  parties,  in  their  more  modern  manifestation,  are 
found  amongst  the  Whigs  and  Democrats  of  the  present  day,  the 
latter  having  no  more  spiteful  epithet  to  hurl  against  the  former 
than  that  of  Federalist.  It  is  true  that  a  modern  Whig  as  empha- 
tically repudiates  the  charge  of  federalism,  as  a  cavalier  may  be 
supposed  to  have  denied  the  accusation  of  being  a  roundhead.  But 
there  is  little  doubt,  considering  their  more  conservative  character, 
of  the  Whigs,  as  a  party,  being  the  legitimate  representatives  of  the 
Federalists. 

Such  being  the  perils  which  environ  the  Union,  it  is  but  right  that 
we  should  now  briefly  inquire  into  the  nature  of  its  guarantees.  It 
must  be  confessed  that  these,  when  properly  understood,  are  such  as 
greatly  diminish  the  dangers  to  which  it  would  otherwise  be  inevita- 

VOL.  I, — 15 


I'/O  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

bly  exposed.  Like  the  solar  system,  the  union  is  regulated  in  its 
complex  and  delicate  workintr  by  the  combined  action  of  centripetal 
and  centrifugal  forces.  But  for  the  presence  of  the  one  it  would  not 
long  withstand  tlie  disintegrating  tendencies  of  the  other.  The 
federal  system,  in  its  simple  form,  unmixed  with  any  other  element 
of  political  existence,  must  ever  be  extremely  dillicult  to  sustain. 
The  mutual  jealousies  and  conflicting  interests  of  its  component  parts, 
exercise  a  repelling  influence,  w^hich  it  has  not  always  sufficient  co- 
hesive power  to  resist.  When  States  are  bound  together  by  no  tie 
but  the  federal  one,  it  is  seldom  that  they  remain  long  together  with- 
out dismrbing  causes  manifesting  themselves  to  unsettle  the  founda- 
tions of  their  Union.  There  is  no  national  sentiment,  embracing  the 
entire  confederation,  to  rail}  the  people  around  it  in  a  moment  of 
danger,  particularly  when  it  is  menaced  not  from  without  but  from 
within.  The  inhabitants  of  each  State  give  their  first  thoughts  to 
their  own  State,  and  only  such  as  they  have  then  to  spare  to  the  con- 
federation. 

In  framing  the  American  constitution,  the  great  object  was  to  secure 
the  benefits  of  a  federal  union,  which  would  not  be  constantly  liable 
to  disintegration  from  tlie  mutual  jealousies,  the  conflicting  interests, 
and  the  independent  action  of  the  several  States.  To  efl'ect  this,  the 
framers  of  the  constitution  most  wisely  intertwined  the  national  with 
the  federal  principle,  so  that  the  people  might  exist  at  once  in  the 
double  capacity  of  a  united  people,  and  of  a  confederation  of  States. 
In  its  preamble,  that  instrument  sets  forth,  not  that  the  States  of  the 
Union,  but  that  "  We,  the  people  of  the  United  States,"  do  establish 
and  ordain,  &c.  Here  the  national  principle  is  recognised  and  af- 
firmed as  lying  at  the  foundation  of  the  federal  superstructure.  It  is 
as  a  federal  body  that  the  United  States  chiefly  manifest  themselves 
to  the  external  world,  but  it  is  mainly  as  one  people  that  their  action 
is  regulated.  Were  the  Union  purely  federal,  its  legislative  body 
would  assume  the  federal  type,  representing,  not  the  whole  people, 
but  the  diflerent  States  which  they  comprised.  The  executive  too 
would  be  provided  for  by  a  totally  diflerent  arrangement  from  that 
now  prevailing.  But  the  American  executive  is  the  representative 
of  the  entire  American  people  in  their  collective  national  capacity. 
It  is  not  this  Slate  that  is  this  year  entrusted  with  executive  control, 
and  that  State  tlie  next,  the  executive  government  being  constantly 
wielded  by  the  whole  people,  without  reference  to  their  divisions 
into  States,  by  their  own  representatives,  springing,  every  four  years, 
from  their  common  sullVages.  And  precisely  so  with  one  of  the 
branches  of  the  legislature.  The  House  of  Representatives  is  not  a 
body  representing  the  different  political  communities  of  w  hich  the 
Union  is  composed,  but  the  whole  people  of  the  Union,  as  if  no  such 
distinction  existed  between  them.  It  is  in  the  Senate,  and  in  it  alone, 
that  we  find  the  Union  represented  in  its  federal  capacity,  that  body 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  171 

heing  composed  of  the  delegates,  not  of  the  people,  but  of  the  Slates. 
Hut  even  in  the  Senate  they  do  not  vote  as  States,  but  ;^er  capite,  as 
in  the  House  of  Representatives.  The  number  of  States  being  thirty, 
the  Senate  consists  of  sixty  members,  there  being  two  from  each  State. 
A  vote  may  thus  be  carried  by  the  senators  from  twenty-nine  States 
dividing  against  each  other,  when  both,  or  one  of  those  representing 
the  thirtieth,  might  turn  the  scale.  Thus,  even  in  the  Senate,  al- 
though they  represent  the  States,  they  do  not  act  by  States.  We  see 
then  that  the  executive,  and  one  branch  of  the  legislative  power, 
are  purely  of  national  origin;  whilst  the  other  branch  of  the  latter, 
which  assumes  a  federal  type,  never  carries  it  into  action.  The  only 
occasion  on  which  there  is  a  purely  federal  action  at  Washington  is, 
when  the  people  having  failed  to  elect  a  President,  his  election  de- 
volves upon  the  House  of  Representatives.  The  course  of  procedure 
in  such  a  case  has  already  been  explained.  The  national  principle 
is  thus  made  to  underlie  the  federal,  in  America,  so  that  the  different 
States,  which  appear  to  be  merely  set  together  in  federal  juxtaposi- 
tion, like  type  bound  together  from  without,  are  in  reality  amalgamated 
below,  like  stereotype. 

There  are  thus  two  political  states  of  existence  in  America,  the 
national  and  the  federal.  It  is  the  national  principle  which  almost 
exclusively  manifests  itself  in  Washington,  the  federal  being  exhi- 
bited in  the  independent  local  action  of  the  diff"erent  States.  This 
is  the  very  reverse  of  what  is  generally  the  case  with  federal  States. 
It  is  generally  in  their  federal  capacity  that  they  act  externally, 
leaving  the  national  principle  to  erect  itself  at  home.  The  conse- 
quence is,  that  there  are  generally  displayed  great  weakness  and  in- 
decision, when  promptness  and  vigour  are  required — conflicting  na- 
tionalities frequendy  interfering  with  general  action.  In  America, 
the  national  feeling,  particularly  so  far  as  external  action  is  con- 
cerned, is  all  with  the  Union,  which  is  so  embodied  as  to  enable  it 
to  act,  not  as  a  number  of  States  working  in  concert,  but  as  one 
great  power.  This  is  that  which  renders  it  almost  impregnable  to 
all  external  assaults.  The  chief  danger  to  it,  as  already  intimated, 
is  from  within.  The  two  principles  cannot  co-exist  in  active  de- 
velopment, without  the  most  perfect  system  of  checks  to  keep  them 
from  encroaching  on  each  other.  The  national  principle  could 
only  predominate  at  the  expense  of  State  sovereignty  and  inde- 
pendence; whilst  the  federal  principle,  if  pushed  to  an  extreme, 
would  tend  to  cripple  all  national  action.  It  was  evidently  for  an 
extension  of  the  one  that  the  Federalists  contended,  whilst  the  States' 
Rights  party  rallied  in  maintenance  of  the  other.  These  parties 
being  now,  properly  speaking,  extinct,  none  daring  to  avow  himself 
favourable  to  any  further  extension  of  the  national  principle,  the 
chief  source  of  peril  is  in  the  conflicting  material  interests  of  the 
different  sections  of  the  confederacy.     But  storms  from  within  would 


172  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

])e  much  more  potent  for  mischief,  were  it  not  for  the  extent  to  wliioh 
the  national  principle  obtains.  The  Americans  divide  themselves 
into  States  only  for  local  purposes;  for  all  other  objects,  they  regard 
themselves,  and  feel,  as  one  united  people.  Their  first  affections, 
therefore,  are  for  the  Union,  their  next,  for  their  respective  localities. 
They  are  less  like  diiierent  States  uniting  for  a  common  object  than 
like  one  people  dividing  into  States  for  particular  local  objects.  To 
tear  them  asunder,  therefore,  will  require  a  greater  force  than  gene- 
rally suffices  to  dissolve  the  flimsy  connexion  which  binds  together 
different  States,  having  but  few  sympathies  in  common,  or  perhaps 
cherishing  mutual  antipathies,  but  which  enter  into  a  federal  tie  as  a 
mere  political  expedient.  No  force  can  do  it  short  of  that  which 
can  rend  a  nation  asunder.  In  the  case  of  America,  that  force  can 
only  come  from  within,  and  nothing  but  the  conflict  of  material  in- 
terests is  likely  to  set  it  in  motion.  Should  a  really  serious  demon- 
stration from  this  quarter  be  once  made,  how  far  the  central  govern- 
ment is  capable  of  resisting  it  has  been  already  briefly  considered. 
There  is  no  question  but  that  the  national  sentiment  cherished  by  the 
American  people  serves  to  postpone  the  crisis,  or  but  that,  should  it 
ever  arise,  that  sentiment  would  form  the  only  source  of  strength  to 
the  executive  government. 

Nullification  having  been  incidentally  alluded  to,  a  brief  explana- 
tion of  its  nature  and  objects  will  not  here  be  out  of  place.  When 
the  dispute  between  South  Carolina  and  the  central  government  was 
pending,  the  whole  question  of  general  and  local  powers  was  opened 
up  and  discussed.  Two  parties  sprung  up  in  the  South,  particularly 
in  the  State  just  mentioned,  entertaining  strong  views  of  the  powers 
and  rights  of  the  different  States.  The  one  party  were  known  as 
the  NuUifiers,  the  other  as  the  Seceders.  The  Nullifiers  maintained 
that  when  an  act  of  the  general  legislature  was  in  manifest  violation 
of  the  constitution,  each  State  being  for  itself  the  judge  as  to  M^hether 
it  was  so  or  not,  and  direcdy  inimical  to  the  interests  of  a  State,  that 
State  had  the  power,  quoad  itself,  to  annul  the  act,  and  to  prevent  it 
from  being  carried  into  execution  within  its  limits.  Thus  South 
Carolina  contended  that  she  had  the  power  and  the  right,  whenever 
the  circumstances  seemed  to  her  to  warrant  it,  to  prevent  the  United 
States  tariff  from  being  in  force  in  the  port  of  Charleston.  The  chief 
answer  to  this  was,  that  all  acts  of  Congress  were  valid,  unless  un- 
constitutional, and  that  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States  was 
the  sole  judge  as  to  whether  they  were  unconstitutional  or  not.  It 
followed  that,  until  they  were  pronounced  to  be  unconstitutional  by 
the  only  competent  tribunal,  no  State  could  resist  their  execution. 
If  this  w^ere  so,  the  interests  of  a  State  might  be  trampled  in  the  dust 
by  acts  which  came  within  the  letter  of  the  constitution,  when,  un- 
less it  had  some  means  of  defending  itself,  it  would  be  utterly  reme- 
diless.    This  consideration  gave   rise  to  the  Secession  party,  wiio 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  173 

contended  that,  when  the  federal  connexion  became  manifestly  in- 
jurious to  the  interests  of  any  section  of  the  American  people  inha- 
biting a  State, they  might  withdraw  entirely  from  the  Union  of  iheir 
own  accord.  To  this  it  was  replied  that,  although  the  constitution 
was  ratified  by  the  States,  as  States,  it  could  not  be  rescinded  by 
one  without  the  consent  of  all.  Others  again  contended  that,  although 
the  constitution,  which  is  the  symbol  of  the  Union,  was  ratified  by 
the  States,  that  form  of  ratification  did  not  alter  its  essential  charac- 
ter as  a  document  emanating,  not  from  the  States,  but  from  the  whole 
people  as  one  people,  and  binding  them  together  as  one,  without 
necessary  reference  to  their  division  into  States.  From  this  it  would 
follow,  that  it  could  not  be  rescinded  by  the  States,  as  States,  but  by 
the  people  of  all  the  States,  as  one  people. 

Before  concluding  tliis  chapter  a  brief  inquiry  into  the  expenses 
of  the  American  government,  with  a  view  to  contrasting  them  with 
those  of  the  government  of  this  country,  may  be  neither  uninterest- 
ing nor  uninstructive.  For  the  four  years  ending  June  30,  1846, 
the  average  annual  expenditure  of  the  United  States,  exclusive  of 
payments  on  account  of  the  public  debt,  was  twenty-two  millions  of 
dollars,  or  4,950,000/.  say  5,000,000/.  sterling.  For  the  same  pe- 
riod, our  average  annual  expenditure,  exclusive  of  payments  on  ac- 
count of  the  public  debt,  was  22,000,000/.  sterling.  The  American 
people  being  now  about  t\v  enty  millions,  their  expenditure  for  army, 
navy,  ordnance,  pensions,  civil  contingencies,  and  foreign  intercourse, 
in  short,  for  every  thing  but  the  debt,  amounts  to  about  5^.  sterling 
per  head.  We,  being  about  thirty  millions  of  people,  have  to  pay 
14s.  Sd.  sterling  per  head,  ta  defray  the  expenses  of  the  State  ex- 
clusive of  the  debt;  that  is  to  say,  for  the  mere  expenses  of  govern- 
ment, we  pay  absolutely  between  four  and  five  times  as  much  as  the 
American;  and,  individually,  nearly  three  times  as  much.  When 
the  debt  of  both  countries  is  thrown  into  the  scale,  this  diff'erence  is, 
of  course,  greatly  increased;  inasmuch  as  we  pay  yearly,  as  interest 
upon  our  debt,  more  than  the  whole  principal  of  the  debt  of  America, 
eve'i  after  the  war,  amounts  to. 

But  it  may  be  urged  that  this  comparison  is  not  fair,  inasmuch  as 
in  the  case  of  America,  no  account  is  taken  of  the  expense  of  the 
State  governments.  It  is  quite  true  that  the  yearly  expenditure  for 
the  support  of  the  general  government  is  not  the  sum-total  which  the 
Americans  have  to  pay  as  the  expenses  of  government.  It  is  but 
proper,  therefore,  that,  in  comparing  the  expenditure  of  the  two 
countries,  the  expense  of  the  State  government  in  America  should 
be  superadded  to  that  of  the  general  government. 

There  being  no  less  than  thirty  difl'erent  States,  with  thirty  local 
political  systems  to  support;  that  is  to  say,  thirty  executives,  thirty 
legislatures,  thirty  judiciary  systems,  and  thirty  difierent  groups  of 
miscellaneous  e/  ceteras,  connected  with  thirty  different  governments 

15* 


174  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

to  provide  for,  one  might  naturally  suppose  that  the  aggregate  ex- 
pense of  all  this  would  greatly  exceed  that  incurred  to  support  the 
w-eneral  government.     But  the  expense  of  all  the  State  governments 
taken  together  does  not  exceed  five  millions  and  a  half  of  dollars, 
which  is  but  a  trifle  over  a  million  and  a  quarter  sterling.     This 
added  to  the  5,000,000/.  for  the  support  of  the  general  government, 
gives  6,125,000/.  as  the  aggregate  cost  of  government,  both  general 
and  local  in  America.     This  makes  the  cost  per  head  of  government 
in  America,  exclusive  of  the  debt,  Qs.  Sd.  sterling,  to  contrast  with 
I4s.  Sd.,  the  cost  per  head  of  the  government  of  England,  exclusive 
of  her  debt.     The  Mexican  war  has  materially  eniianced  the  Ame- 
rican debt,  but  even  with  this  addition,  it  does  not  exceed  20,000,000/. 
The  annual  interest  upon  tbis  will  be,  even  at  the  rate  paid  by  Ame- 
rica, little  more    than    1,000,000/.*     So  that,  taking  into  view  the 
taxation  imposed  for  the  payment  of  the  interest  of  the  debt,  the  tax 
per  head  will  not  exceed  7s.  Qd.  sterling.     More  than  this  may  be 
raised  for  some  years  to  come  to  pay  off  the  principal  of  the  debt, 
but  it  is  not  necessary  to  take  any  extra  efl?"orts  of  this  kind  into  the 
calculation.     If  w^e  add,  in  the  case  of  England,  the  taxation  neces- 
sary for  the  payment  of  the  annual  interest  upon  the  debt  to  that 
raised  for  the  ordinary  expenses  of  the  government,  it  gives  us  no 
less  than  1/.  14.s.  as  the  proportion  paid  per  head.     That  is  to  say, 
taking  every  thing  into  account,  on   both  sides,  we  pay  more  than 
four  and  a  half  times  per  head  as  much  as  the  Americans  pay  in 
the  way  of  taxation. 

But  some  may  urge  that  we  have  not  only  an  imperial  government, 
but  also  from  thirty  to  forty  colonial  governments  to  sustain.  But 
if,  in  addition  to  the  general  government  we  have  the  governments 
of  thirty  or  forty  colonies  to  support,  let  it  be  remembered  that  the 
Americans  have  also  their  general  government,  with  thirty  local, 
certainly,  not  colonial,  governments  to  sustain.  They  may  differ 
in  name  from  our  colonies,  but  they  occupy  an  analogous  position 
to  that  occupied  by  the  colonies,  so  far  as  this  question  is  concerned. 
The  Englishman  pays  for  his  imperial  and  his  colonial  governments, 
the  American  for  his  imperial  and  state  governments.  Englishmen 
pay  four  millions  sterling  for  the  government  of  from  thirty  to  forty 
Colonies,  Americans  pay  about  a  million  and  a  quarter  sterling  for 
the  local  government  of  thirty  States.  The  Colonics  contain  an  ag- 
gregate population  of  five  millions— the  States,  one  of  twenty  millions. 
But  the  four  millions  paid  by  the  imperial  government  is  only  half 
what  it  takes  to  support  the  government  of  the  Colonies,  the  otiier 
half  being  defrayed  by  the  colonists  themselves.  It  thus  takes  eight 
millions  sterling  to  govern  five  millions  of  colonists;  and  as  England 

*  The  State  debts  are  not  included,  because  the  sums  borrowed  have  been 
invested  in  works,  which  are  already  in  sonne  cases  wholly,  and  in  others 
partly,  paying,  and  will  soon  in  all  cases  wholly  pay  the  interest  upon  them. 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  175 

pays  one-half  of  this  sum,  she  may  be  said  to  pay  four  millions 
sterling-  for  governing  tu'O  millions  and  a  half  of  colonists.  She  thus 
pays  at  the  rate  of  1/.  12s.  for  the  government  of  each  colonist — 
more  than  double  what  it  costs  her  to  govern  a  subject  at  home; 
for  we  have  already  seen  that  14s.  Sd.  was  the  cost  per  head  of 
government  to  Englishmen,  exclusive  of  the  interest  on  the  debt, 
and,  indeed,  including  the  four  millions  expended  upon  the  Colonies. 
Whilst  the  cost  of  governing  an  English  colonist  is  1/.  12.5.  that  of 
governing  an  American  citizen  in  his  own  State  is,  on  an  average, 
Is.  3d.  per  head  per  annum.  Thus  the  cost  to  the  American  citizen 
of  administering  the  local  affairs  of  his  State,  is  about  one  twenty- 
fifth  part  that  which  it  costs  for  the  administration  of  the  affairs  of 
an  English  colonist.  'J'here  is,  therefore,  but  little  that  tells  in 
favour  of  our  system,  when  we  take  its  colonial  element  into  ac- 
count. 

But  the  proportion  borne  by  what  is  paid  per  head  by  the  Ame- 
ricans, as  the  expenses  of  government,  to  that  w^hich  is  paid  per 
head  by  us  in  the  same  way,  is  annually  diminishing :  inasmuch  as, 
whilst  the  American  people  are  rapidly  increasing  in  numbers,  their 
expenditure  exhibits  Ijut  little  tendency  to  increase  at  all.  It  is  quite 
true  that  their  yearly  expenditure  is  now  much  greater  tlian  it  was 
in  the  earlier  days  of  the  Confederation,  but  it  is  not  materially  in- 
creased now  bevond  what  it  was  fifteen  years  a^o.  Durino-  tlie  four 
years  ending  1836,  the  average  annual  expenditure  of  the  United 
States'  government  was  a  little  above  twenty-one  millions  of  dollars. 
During  the  four  ending  1846,  it  was,  as  we  have  already  seen,  about 
twenty-two  millions.  In  1835  the  population  of  America  did  not 
exceed  fifteen  millions — it  now  exceeds  twenty.  We  thus  see  that 
twenty  millions  of  people  paylitde,  if  any,  more  for  their  govern- 
ment than  fifteen  millions  did  about  thirteen  years  ago.  Thus, 
although  tlie  expenditure,  if  it  does  not  remain  stationary,  is  but 
slightly  increased,  the  burden  of  taxation  upon  the  individual  is 
rapidly  diminishing ;  and  there  is  no  reason  why,  Mhen  the  popu- 
lation of  America  is  thirty  millions,  which  it  will  be  fifteen  years 
hence,  the  expenses  of  its  government  should  increase  beyond  its 
present  figure.  If  it  does  not,  the  burden  of  taxation  on  each  indi- 
vidual in  1863,  will  be  only  half  what  it  w^as  in  1835.  What  pros- 
pect have  we  of  any  such  relief  as  this,  considering  how  much  it  is 
the  tendency  of  the  times  with  us  to  increase  instead  of  diminishing 
our  expenditure?  Since  1835  it  has  increased  by  about  ten  millions; 
and  although,  in  deference  to  the  universal  clamour  now  raised  for 
reduction,  some  trifling  diminution  may  be  effected,  yet  even  that 
relief,  trifling  though  it  will  be,  will  be  but  temporary,  it  being  the 
interest  of  the  tax-spending  class  to  have  as  much  of  the  public 
money  pass  through  their  fingers  as  possible.  We  delude  ourselves 
in  expecting  any  permanent  improvement  in  this  respect,  until  the 


176  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

tax-paying  class  exercise  a  more  direct  control  over  the  spending  of 
the  taxes. 

But  wliy  should  this  improvement  not  take  place?  Is  it  necessary 
that  England  siiould  have  a  government  inordinately  expensive,  to 
have  a  government  sufficiently  good  ?  The  American  government  is 
cheaply  administered,  and  in  what  particular  is  it  wanting.  No  one 
can  charge  the  general  government  with  any  want  of  efficiency  in 
the  administration  of  the  foreign  affairs  of  the  Confederation.  Its 
internal  government  is  adequately  provided  for  by  its  State,  or  local 
authorities.  Life  and  property  are  as  secure  there  as  here.  If  there 
is  less  security  in  the  South  than  in  the  North,  so  is  there  in  Ireland 
than  in  Great  Britain,  although  we  have  in  Ireland,  in  aid  of  the 
military,  a  civil  force  greater  than  the  whole  mditary  force  of  Ame- 
rica. View  them  which  way  you  w^ill,  the  contrast  of  the  American 
system  with  our  own  is,  as  regards  its  expenditure  at  least,  eminenily 
unfavourable  to  us.  This  should  not  be ;  for  there  is  no  reason  why 
England  should  not  have  as  good  a  government  as  any  other  country, 
at  as  cheap  a  rate. 

Having  thus  hurriedly  glanced  at  the  leading  features  of  the  po- 
litical system  of  America  ;  having  shown  the  basis  on  which  it  rests, 
and  the  principles  which  regulate  the  action  and  the  distribution  of 
its  powers;  having  drawn  attention  to  what  are  considered  by  some 
to  be  its  weaker  points,  and  exhibited  the  party  distinctions  which 
have  originated  in  the  contradictory  construction  of  some  of  its  pro- 
visions, the  reader  has  probably  anticipated  me  in  noticing  the  grand 
difference  which  exists  between  the  British  and  American  Constitu- 
tions. At  the  basis  of  the  former  is  power,  from  the  spoils  of  which 
the  superincumbent  fabric  of  popular  liberty  has  been  reared;  power 
still  retaining  all  the  franchises  and  prerogatives  not  conceded  by  it; 
— at  die  foundation  of  the  latter,  is  popular  liberty,  the  necessities  of 
which  have  called  power  into  existence;  power  in  tiiis  case,  how- 
ever, wielding  no  more  authority  than  has  been  conceded  to  it. 
Liberty  in  England  has  been  wrung  from  power — power  in  America 
has  arisen  out  of  liberty.  In  the  one  case,  power  has  been  fettered 
that  freedom  might  expand  ;  in  the  other,  freedom  has  been  restricted 
that  power  might  exist.  Without  liis  charters,  the  Englishman  would 
have  no  freedom  of  action — without  liis  constitutions,  the  American 
would  have  no  restraint  upon  his.  It  is  by  deeds  of  concession  that 
the  people  in  England  vindicate  their  liberty — it  is  by  deeds  of  con- 
cession Uiat  power  in  America  vindicates  its  authority. "^^ 

*  Since  the  foregoing  was  written,  I  perceive  that  Mr.  M'Gregor,  in  a  letter 
addressed  to  the  people  of  Glasgow,  has  staled,  inter  alia,  that,  taking  into  ac- 
count the  total  taxation,  general  and  local,  to  which  they  are  subjected,  the 
Americans  are  far  from  being  a  moderately-taxed  people.  He  cannot,  by  this, 
have  intended  to  convey  the  idea  that  there  was  any  thing  like  an  equality  of 
taxation  between  them  and  ourselves.     In  case,  however,  some  shvnild  draw 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  177 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


THE  FEDERAL  LEGISLATURE. 

The  American  Congress. — The  House  of  Representatives. — Heterogeneous 
Materials  of  which  it  is  connposed. — Proceedings  in  the  House. — Confusion 
which  sonaetimes  prevails. —  Occasional  Impressiveness  of  the  Proceedings. 
— Delays  in  the  transaction  of  Business. — Causes  of  this. — Position  of  a 
Member  with  regard  to  his  Constituents. — The  "Gag-law." — Style  of 
American  Oratory. — Love  of  Imagery. —  The  American  Eagle. — Declension 
of  American  Oratory  from  its  pristine  grandeur. — "Scenes"  in  the  House. 
— Divisions. — The  Senate. — Description  of  that  Body. — Appearance  of  the 
Senate  as  a  Deliberative  Body. — The  Senate,  the  Conservative  element  in 
the  Constitution.  — Secret  of  its  Power. — Comparison  in  this  respect  between 
it  and  the  House  of  Lords. — Mode  in  which  Meml^rs  are  addressed. — 
Reflections  caused  thereby. —  Comparison  between  the  two  Houses. — Cause 
of  the  great  difference  in  character  between  them. 

My  stay  in  Washington  afforded  me  frequent  opportunities  of 
attendino-  the  deliberations  in  Congress.  The  debates  and  resolutions 
of  this  body  have  now  obtained  a  world-wide  importance,  whilst  its 

such  an  inference  from  a  statement  of  this  kind,  proceeding  from  so  distin- 
guished a  source,  I  shall  present  the  reader  with  a  comparison  of  the  total  taxa- 
tion of  one  of  the  most  highly-taxed  States  in  the  L^nion,  with  the  total  taxa- 
tion of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland.  For  the  sake  of  comparison, the  population 
of  New  York  m.ay  be  taken  at  3,000,000,  and  that  of  the  United  Kingdom  at 
30,000,000.  The  population  of  New  York  is  about  a  seventh  that  of  the  whole 
Union.  Taking  29,000,000  of  dollars  as  the  expenditure  of  the  General  Govern- 
ment in  1846,  including  the  interest  of  the  debt  and  other  charges,  New  York 
would  contribute  the  seventh,  or  say  4,130,000  dollars.  The  total  taxation  of 
the  State,  for  the  same  year,  for  state,  county,  and  town  purposes,  fell  under 
4,000,000.  But,  taking  the  round  sum,  this  gives  8,130,000  dollars  as  the  total 
taxation,  paid  during  that  year,  by  the  3,000,000  of  people  inhabiting  New 
York.  Reduced  to  sterling  money,  this  sum  amounts  to  about  1,690,000/.,  or 
11 5.  per  head.  The  New  Yorkers  thus  pay  actually  less  per  head  for  the  sup- 
port of  the  General  Government,  the  i  iterest  of  the  general  debt,  the  support 
of  the  State  Government,  and  for  all  local  and  municipal  purposes,  than  we 
were  last  year  called  upon  to  pay  for  the  support  of  our  military  establish- 
ments alone!  The  gross  revenue  of  this  country  for  last  year  exceeded 
(iO,000,000/.  If  to  this  be  added,  the  local  taxation  of  the  three  kingdoms, 
their  total  taxation,  for  all  purposes,  general  and  local,  is  not  over-estimated 
at  80,000,OOOZ.  This,  distributed  over  30,000,000  of  people,  gives  21.  Y?.s.  as 
the  taxation  per  head  in  this  country,  which  is  nearly  five  times  as  great  as 
the  taxation  per  head,  for  all  purposes,  in  New  York. 

It  is  quite  possible  that  the  Americans  are  not  moderately  taxed,  and  that 
there  is  room,  with  them  as  with  us,  for  financial  reform;  but  it  is,  at  the 
same  time,  very  evident  that,  taking  the  whole  of  their  taxation  into  account, 
they  are,  as  compared  with  us,  a  very  moderately-taxed  people. 


178  THE   WESTERN  WORLD. 

attitude  and  demeanour  excite  interest  and  attract  attention.  Like 
every  tiling  else  in  America,  much  that  is  fabulous  has  been  written 
about  it,  as  well  as  much  that  is  true;  and  by  the  majority  on  this 
side  of  the  Atlantic,  the  picture  is  too  apt  to  be  viewed  on  its  un- 
favourable side.  I  have  regularly  attended  the  discussions  of  Con- 
gress for  months,  during  which  time  questions  of  the  highest  interest, 
both  of  a  foreign  and  domestic  character,  were  debated  within  its 
walls,  and  may,  therefore,  without  egotism,  consider  myself  competent 
to  convey  an  honest,  if  not  a  very  vivid  impression  of  it,  to  the  mind 
of  the  reader.  It  is  said  that  there  is  nothing  so  solemn  but  has  its 
ludicrous  side;  and  if  I  wanted  to  find  subjects  for  caricature,  with 
which  to  amuse,  there  is  little  doubt  but  that  the  Capitol  might  furnish 
me  with  material.  My  object  is  to  present  a  truthful  picture,  amusing 
peradventure,  in  parts,  but  as  instructive  as  the  truth  can  render  it 
throughout.  In  dealing  with  America,  the  reader  has  been  long 
enough  amused  by  different  writers,  at  the  expense  of  his  confidence. 
It  is  high  time  that  portraiture  superseded  caricature. 

The  constitution  and  functions  of  the  two  Houses  of  Congress 
having  been  considered  in  the  previous  chapter,  the  object  now  is 
to  present  them  in  their  very  action  and  aspect;  and  if  the  reader 
will  again  accompany  me,  we  will  first  proceed  together  into  the 
House  of  Representatives. 

In  addition  to  the  public  gallery,  -which  takes  the  semicircular 
sweep  of  the  chamber,  and  that  set  apart  for  the  private  friends  of 
members,  the  floor  of  the  House  is  frequently  thrown  open  for  the 
accommodation  of  strangers.  Being  admitted  to  the  privilege  of  the 
floor,  we  shall  take  our  station  in  the  vicinity  of  the  chair,  as  being 
the  best  position,  perhaps,  both  for  seeing  and  hearing  what  is  going 
on. 

The  hall,  as  already  described,  has  a  dark  and  dingy  appearance 
even  on  the  brightest  day.  It  is  but  iU  lighted  for  so  vast  a  space, 
and  its  sombreness  is  increased  by  the  darkened  colouring  of  its  ap- 
pointments and  decorations. 

From  the  point  you  occupy  you  have  a  good  coup-d'ceil  of  the 
whole  House.  Face  to  face  with  you  are  the  representatives  of  the 
Union,  the  aggregate  result  of  the  last  electoral  fermentation. 

It  is  true,  the/  are  a  mofley  assembly;  but  how  could  they  be 
otherwise,  when  you  consider  whence  they  are  drawn?  There  is 
a  representative  from  Maine,  his  fresh  complexion  and  hardy  frame 
bespeaking  him  from  the  North,  where  his  constituents  are  now 
clothed  in  furs  ;  there  again  is  one,  from  whose  body  the  hot  suns 
of  Alabama  have  nearly  dissipated  all  the  juices,  except  that  of  to- 
bacco, with  which  he  is  at  this  moment  overflowing;  behind  him 
sits  a  member  from  beyond  the  AUcghenies,  ay  even  from  beyond 
the  Mississippi,  in  whose  keen  eye,  wrinkled  face,  and  general  quick- 
ness of  movement,  you  can  read  whole  stories  of  adventurous  life  in 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  179 

tlie  Far  West;  while  close  beside  you  is  the  languid  Carolinian, 
accustomed  to  have  every  thing  done  for  him  at  his  nod.  And  what 
pages  in  the  history  of  the  Union  may  be  read  in  the  varied  phy- 
siognomy of  the  House!  In  the  assembly  before  you,  of  two  hun- 
dred men  or  thereabouts,  you  can  readily  trace  the  dark  hair  and 
eye,  and  the  high  cheek-bone  of  the  Celt,  the  sleek  and  rotund  con- 
tour of  the  Saxon,  the  ponderous  outline  of  the  Dutchman,  the 
phlegmatic  temperament  of  the  German,  the  olive  hue  of  the  Spaniard, 
and  the  nimble  figure  of  the  Frank.  It  is  a  true  reflex  of  the  great 
busy  mass  without,  scattered  far  and  wide  for  thousands  of  miles 
from  where  you  stand.  It  is  at  once  a  type  of  the  past  and  the 
future  of  America.  In  the  representatives  of  the  American  people, 
you  have  an  epitome  of  the  story  of  their  ancestry,  and  a  clue  to 
that  of  their  posterity.  In  one  respect  the  scene  rises  to  the  dignity 
of  a  moral  phenomenon.  You  have  different  races,  with  all  their 
diversified  habits,  predilections,  histories,  creeds,  and  traditions ;  you 
have  the  representatives  of  almost  every  country  in  Europe  living 
together,  not  a  paralytic  life,  but  a  life  of  constant  industry  and  active 
competition,  and  regulating  their  political  existence  by  the  machinery 
of  a  constitutional  and  democratic  regime.  In  one  sense,  truly,  you 
have  a  congress  of  nations  in  this  Congress  of  the  United  States. 
The  House  is  certainly,  on  a  general  view,  wanting  in  that  polish 
which  characterizes  the  corresponding  chamber  in  St.  Stephen's. 
But  one  would  be  disappointed  to  find  it  otherwise,  when  he  con- 
siders that  those  who  compose  it  vary  as  much  in  their  occupations 
and  positions  in  life  as  they  do  in  their  lineage  and  physiognomy. 
There  are  but  few  men  of  independent  fortune,  or  of  any  scholastic 
attainments  amongst  them.  You  have  the  merchant  and  the  manu- 
facturer, who  have  come  from  their  mills  and  counting-houses  to  the 
work  of  legislation.  You  have  the  lawyer;  you  have  the  cotton- 
grower  and  the  sugar-grower;  the  owner  of  labour,  and  the  man 
who  hires  it,  and  who  even  labours  for  himself.  There  is  a  large 
sprinkling,  too,  of  farmers,  whose  rough  hands  have  just  relinquished 
the  plough,  that  their  unpolished  tongues  might  have  a  swing  in 
Congress.  It  is  not  necessary  to  be  an  independent  man  to  be  a 
representative,  where  men  are  paid  for  the  labour  of  legislation;  or 
to  be  over-refined,  to  be  a  delegate  from  a  section  of  the  country 
where  refinement  would  be  as  much  an  offence  as  it  is  a  rarity. 
But  for  the  principle  of  paying  men  to  legislate,  it  would  be  impos- 
sible for  many  of  those  before  you  to  undertake  a  Washington  cam- 
paign. To  some  of  them  the  eight  dollars  a  day,  given  in  consider- 
ation of  Congressional  duties,  is  positive  wealth.  But  many  of 
these  men  are  burly  fellows,  who  make  up  in  dogged  honesty  what 
they  may  want  in  refinement  and  manners.  Nor  is  the  House 
entirely  composed  of  this  unhewn  material.  There  are  classic 
columns,  with  noble  Corinthian  capitals,  in  the   moral,  as  in  the 


180  THE  WESTERN   WORLD. 

physical  structure  of  the  Capitol.     A  close  inspection  of  the  mass 
before  you  will  show  that  there  are  many  glitterini^  veins,  not  mere 
tinsel,  but  of  genuine  metal,  which  permeate  its  different  stratitica- 
tions.     True,  that  honourable  member  from  one  of  the  Southern 
counties  of  Ohio,  would  be  none  the  worse  of  another  button  on  his* 
coat;  it  would  be  no  impeachment  of  the  republican  simplicity  of 
his  neiglibour  from  Indiana,  if  the  otiier  side  of  his  shirt-collar  were 
visible;    nor  would    it  transform  that  restless-looking    being   from 
Arkansas  into  an  enemy  of  the  Constitution,  if  his  hat  were  brushed 
witli  what  remains  of  the  fur,  instead  of  against  it,  as  it  appears  to 
have  been.     But  the  picture  has  its  lights  as  well  as  its  shadows. 
Intermingled  with  the  rest,  are  men  both  of  dress  and  address,  and 
such  as  would  in  every  way  pass  muster  very  creditably  in  any 
assembly  on  earth.     Amongst  those  on  the  Speaker's  left,  it  is  easy 
to  distiuijuish,  from  his  elevated  manner  and  gentlemanly  bearing, 
Mr.  Winthrop  (since  elected  Speaker,)  the  member  for  Boston ;  from 
his  ease  and  dignity  of  deportment,  Mr.  Grinnell  from  New  Bedford; 
and  on  the  right  of  the  chair,  from  his  calm  and  student-like  attitude, 
Mr.  Seddon,  from  the  capital  of  Virginia.     These  are  but  specimens 
of  dozens  around  them,  who  bring  to  the  House  minds  as  cultivated 
as  they  are  polished  in  exterior,  and  who  may  well  bear  coniparison 
with  the  many  foreigners  who,  in  common  with  yourself,  occupy 
the  floor;  amongst  whom  are  several  members  of  the  corps  cllplo- 
matique,  and  secretaries  and  attaches  to  the  difTerent  legations.     Nor 
is  bonhommie  wanting  in  the  picture.     There  are  many  with  "lean 
and  hungry"  looks,  many  of  atrabilious  temperaments,  impassive 
souls,  and  gloomy  dispositions ;  but  there  are  others  with  jolly  fiices 
and  rotund  proportions,  which  remind  one  very  much  of  some  of 
the  characteristics  of  John  Bull. 

Not  far  from  Mr.  Ingersoll,  of  Pennsylvania,  who  has  scarcely 
yet  recovered  from  the  excitement  consequent  on  his  hbellous  at- 
tack on  Mr.  Webster,  sits  Mr.  King  from  St.  Lawrence  county,  New 
York,  his  sides  at  this  moment  shaking  with  laughter,  although  it 
is  difficult  to  perceive  that  anything  very  jocose  is  transpiring  around 
him.    A  little  to  his  left,  and  turned  up  to  the  skylight,  is  the  good- 
humoured  face  of  Mr.  Pendleton,  familiarly  known  as  the  *'  Lone 
Star,"  being  the  only  Whig  in  the  whole  delegation  of  Virginia; 
whilst  standing  on  the  floor,  near  the  central  entrance,  very  short  of 
stature,  and  very  boyish  in  appearance,  but  both  kind  and  commu- 
nicative, is  Judge  Douglass  from  Illinois,  apparently  incapable  of 
dist\irbing  the  dust  beneath  his  feet,  but  sometimes  raising  quite  a 
hubbub  witli  that  tonjrue  of  his,  which  occasionally  emits  very  fiery 
material.     The  assembly  then,  like  all  other  assemblies  of  the  kind, 
is  a  mixed  one — not  being  one  of  juTfect  gentlemen,  in  the  conven- 
tional sense,  because  there  are  many  gentlemen  in  it;  nor  one  en- 
tirely composed  of  boors,  because  many  of  those  present  remind 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  181 

you  of  trees  with  the  bark  on.  The  picture  is  as  varied  as  such 
pictures  generally  are,  although  it  may  want  the  exquisite  finish  of 
a  line  engraving.  Overhanging  the  members,  and  peering  in  mid- 
air in  groups,  from  between  the  massive  pillars,  are  the  sovereign 
people,  with  a  wakeful  eye  upon  the  conduct  of  their  delegates. 
With  us,  honourable  members  keep  their  hats  on,  and  strangers  are 
obliged  to  uncover;  but  in  Washington,  strangers  in  the  public  gal- 
lery keep  their  hats  on,  whilst  honourable  members  sit  uncovered 
below.  Like  the  "  gods"  at  either  of  the  "Nationals,"  the  occu- 
pants of  the  gallery  present  a  perfect  cloud  of  downward  looking 
faces,  most  of  which  are  shrouded  to  the  eyebrows  in  hats,  in  all 
forms  and  styles,  and  in  all  stages  of  decomposition.  From  the  op- 
posite gallery,  behind  the  chair,  and  directly  overhead  from  where 
you  stand,  bright  eyes,  set  in  sweet,  smiling  faces,  are  watching  with 
a  sort  of  bewildered  interest  all  that  is  going  on  below. 

The  House  is  not,  as  with  us,  divided  into  two  distinct  and  oppo- 
site sides.  Whigs  and  Democrats  manage  to  sit  very  friendlily  to- 
gether, without  having  the  table  and  the  whole  width  of  the  floor 
between  them.  There  is  no  ministerial  bench,  simply  because  mi- 
nisters have  no  more  right  to  be  there  than  you  have;  nor  is  there 
an  opposition  bench,  to  be  occupied  by  a  heterogeneous  phalanx  of 
fault-finders,  like  the  medley  of  protectionists,  conservatives,  chart- 
ists, confederationists,  and  repealers,  who  now  flank  the  table  on 
the  Speaker's  left  in  the  House  of  Commons.  You  can  never  esti- 
mate the  strength  of  parties  by  looking  at  the  House.  Friends  and 
enemies,  they  sit  all  together;  and  it  is  only  when  a  member  gets 
upon  his  legs  that  a  stranger  can  discover  his  political  bias.  As  a 
general  rule,  the  floor  on  the  right  of  the  Speaker  is  chiefly  occupied 
by  those  who  support  the  administration,  but  it  is  a  very  ordinary 
thing  to  see  Whigs  in  the  very  heart  of  the  enemy's  camp,  and  De- 
mocrats wandering  from  their  sphere,  and  getting  lost  amid  the  Whig 
constellations. 

As  we  enter  the  Hall  there  is  some  one  speaking,  but,  from  the 
multitude  of  points  against  which  the  sound  is  broken,  the  reverbe- 
rations are  so  confused  that  it  is  some  time  ere  you  can  exactly  fix 
upon  the  spot  from  which  the  speaker  is  addressing  the  House. 
This  is  all  the  more  difficult  from  the  confusion  which  prevails  upon 
the  floor,  and  the  noises  which  are  constanfly  breaking  out  all  over 
the  House.  The  orator  is  straining  every  nerve  to  be  heard,  but 
in  vain.  Sometimes  his  voice  lapses  into  a  perfect  screech,  but  to 
no  purpose;  he  might  as  well  try  to  be  heard  on  the  raging  beach, 
as  to  get  audible  utterance  in  the  midst  of  that  unceasing  hubbub 
and  concatenation  of  all  conceivable  sounds,  which  rise  and  swell 
from  the  body  of  the  House,  and  break  into  petty,  hut  multitudinous 
echoes  against  the  galleries,  pillars,  capitals,  and  cornices  which 
decorate  it.  The  Speaker's  efforts  to  command  silence  are  praise- 
VOL.  I. — 16 


182  THE  AVESTERN  WORLD. 

worthy,  but  useless.  The  ring  of  his  bell,  or  the  knock  of  his  ham- 
mer, may  cause  a  lull  for  an  instant,  like  the  momentary  cessation 
of  the  roar  in  Cheapside,  but  the  hubbub  rises  and  swells  again  im- 
mediately as  before.  Such  as  are  desirous  of  hearing  what  the  gen- 
tleman has  to  say,  who  is  in  pursuit  of  oratory  under  such  difficul- 
ties, gather  round  him  in  a  group,  leaving  the  rest  to  pursue  their 
different  avocations  in  the  distance.  And  a  rather  unruly  set  the 
rest  are  on  such  occasions — some  of  them  walking  about  and  talk- 
ing in  groups  on  the  floor,  others  taking  it  comfortably  in  their  arm- 
chairs, and  holding  an  animated  conversation,  sometimes  over  three 
or  four  rows  of  desks  with  each  other.  In  the  midst  of  all  this  con- 
fusion I  could  distinguish  one  noise  which  at  first  puzzled  me  ex- 
ceedingly. It  differed  from  every  other  ingredient  in  the  acoustic 
medley,  and  gave  me  at  first  the  idea  that  many  of  the  members 
were  amusing  themselves  by  constantly  firing  small  pistols  in  the 
House.  I  had  heard  and  read  much  that  made  me  think  that  they 
might  thus  be  practising  with  blank  cartridge  in  case  of  need,  and 
had  scarcely  given  myself  credit  for  this  brilliant  conclusion  when 
I  was  undeceived  by  an  apparent  explosion  close  to  my  ear.  The 
truth  is,  that  each  member  has  his  own  desk,  to  which  is  appended 
his  own  proper  name — being  found  in  all  sorts  of  stationery  and 
Sheffield  penknives  a  discretion,  at  the  public  expense.  Here  then 
he  transacts  much  of  his  private  business,  and  writes  all  his  private 
letters ;  thus  judiciously  blending  together  his  public  and  private 
duties  in  a  manner  which  makes  both  agreeable  to  him.  The  mem- 
bers have  a  post-office  of  their  own  contiguous  to  the  Hall;  and 
whenever  one  of  them  has  a  letter  to  send  to  the  post-office,  or  a 
motion  or  an  amendment  to  submit  to  the  Chair,  he  strikes  the  flat 
surface  of  the  paper  with  all  his  force  upon  the  polished  mahogany 
before  him,  which  produces  the  noise  alluded  to,  and  which  fifty 
echoes  seem  to  stand  waiting  on  tiptoe  to  catch  up  and  scatter  all 
over  the  house.  Nor  is  this  done  from  mere  mischief,  for  it  at  once 
summons  one  of  several  boys  to  his  side,  whose  business  it  is  to 
carry  the  documents  to  the  Chair,  or  to  the  post-office,  according  to 
their  destination. 

As  nearly  all  tlie  members  are  sometimes  writing,  and  all  want 
the  boys  at  once,  and  as  the  boys  cannot  be  every  where  at  one  and 
the  same  moment,  the  choruses  of  summonses  with  which  tliey  are 
saluted  resemble  platoon  firing,  with  the  small  instruments  of  offence 
already  alluded  to.  These  boys  are  quite  a  feature  in  the  coup-cV teil 
of  the  house.  When  they  have  a  moment's  rest  they  frequently 
meet  on  the  vacant  space  on  the  floor  in  front  of  the  table,  where 
they  sometimes  amuse  themselves  with  pantomimic  gesticulations, 
not  altogetfier  compatible  with  the  dignity  of  the  House.  More 
than  once,  when  something  had  occurred  to  disturb  their  equanimity, 
have  I  seen  two  of  them  meet  and  shake  their  heads  at  each  other. 


THE  WESTERN"  WORLD.  183 

acoompanying  the  action  with  a  by-play,  wliich  unmistakably  indi- 
cated a  mutual  castigation  as  soon  as  the  forms  of  the  House  would 
permit.  I  mention  this  merely  as  illustrative  of  the  confusion  which 
sometimes  prevails,  and  of  which  the  urchins  in  question  manage 
to  take  advantage.  In  short,  the  House  generally  looks  like  an 
assembly  about  to  be  called  to  order,  with  somebody  in  the  chair 
havini?  no  legitimate  right  to  be  there,  but  merely  occupying  it  for 
the  moment  to  try  how  it  feels. 

There  are  many  to  whom  it  will  at  once  suggest  itself,  that  this 
departure  from  the  decorum  of  a  deliberative  assembly  is  not  peculiar 
to  Washington.  The  House  of  Commons,  if  not  as  systematically 
so,  is  frequently  quite  as  unruly.  And  there  is  this  difference  in 
favour  of  the  House  of  Representatives— that,  however  indifferent 
they  may  be  to  an  orator,  they  never  try  to  put  him  down.  They 
may  not' listen  to  his  eloquence,  but  they  never  attempt  to  smother 

it. 

Disorderly  as  it  generally  is,I  have  been  in  the  Hall,  when,  though 
«'rowded,  it  was  as  still  as  death,  v/hen  a  pin  might  almost  be  heard 
drop  upon  the  carpet,  and  when  order  reigned  along  all  its  benches. 
Never,  in  my  experience,  was  this  transformation  from  its  usual  cha- 
racter so  complete  or  so  impressive,  as  when,  from  the  table  of  the 
House,  was  read  the  correspondence  between  Mr.  Pakenham  and 
Mr.  Buchanan,  in  which  the  former  offered,  in  the  name  of  his  go- 
vernment, and  the  latter  refused,  on  behalf  of  his,  to  submit  the  Ore- 
gon question  to  friendly  arbitration.  It  was  then  that  even  the  most 
sanoruine  began  to  relinquish  their  hopes  of  peace,  and  the  dispute 
looked  really  serious.  The  House  was  crowded  in  every  part,  and 
not  a  sound  disturbed  the  death-like  silence  which  pervaded  the 
-Chamber,  save  the  voice  of  the  clerk,  as  he  read  the  documents  in 
their  order;  which,  in  reply  to  a  resolution,  had  just  been  commu- 
nicated to  the  House.  There  was  then  but  one  speaker,  whilst  all 
were  listeners;  whereas,  generally,  none  are  listening  whilst  all  are 
Gpeaking. 

Nor  does  it  always  require  so  impressive  an  occasion  to  com- 
mand this  change  for  the  better.  As  with  us,  there  are  some  men 
who  never  speak  but  they  are  listened  to.  These  are  generally  men 
of  influence  in  the  national  councils,  and  men  of  eloquence  in  debate. 
It  is  refreshing  in  the  midst  of  so  much  inane  and  wearisome  talk, 
10  listen  to  a  speech  that  is  at  once  temperate  and  eloquent.  But  it 
must  be  confessed  that  these  are  like  angels'  visits,  nine-tenths  of  the 
speeches  delivered  being  as  illogical  in  their  structure  as  they  are 
inflated  in  their  style. 

Were  the  House  of  Representatives  as  numerous  as  is  the  House 
of  Commons,  it  would  be  impossible  ever  to  get  through  with  any 
work  at  all.  Every  member  of  the  former  feels  that  it  is  his  bounden 
duty  to  speak.     Such  appears  to  him  to  be  the  first  and  the  last 


184  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

object  for  which  he  is  sent  to  Washin;^ton,  the  Alpha  and  the  Omeg^ 
of  his  representative  responsibilities  on  the  federal  stage.     A  silent 
member  is  a  luxury  which  the  House  may  know  in  time.     No  mat- 
ter how  punctual  he  may  be  in  his  daily  attendance  in  the  Capitol; 
no  matter  how  earnestly  he  watches  the  progress  of  the  debate,  or 
how  invariably  his  name  is  found  in  the  division  lists;  if  he  does 
not  open  his  mouth,  his  constituents  fancy  that  they  have  g-ot  a  cada- 
vre  to  represent  them,  and  he  may  find  his  silence  inimical  to  his 
prospects.     Each  member  is  thus  compelled,  as  it  were,  to  expose 
what  is  in  him,  and  selects  as  many  opportunities  of  doing  so  as  he 
can.    A  regular  talkinsf  member  is  a  catch  for  a  constituency.     His 
prowess,  in  this  respect,  in  the  House,  magnifies  them  in  their  own 
eyes ;  for,  looking  on  from  a  distance,  they  take  it  for  granted  that 
he  influences  the  House,  which,  by  logical  consequence,  gives  them 
great  influence  over  the  legislation  of  the  country.     So  long  as  con- 
stituents will  thus  exact  speeches,  and  members  find  speechification 
the  readiest  way  of  retaining  favour,  there  will  be  no  lack  of  it  in 
the  legislative  halls.     Almost  every  member  manages,  once  during 
a  session,  to  make  what  he  designs  as  his  culminating  efl'ort,  which 
being  duly  reported,  is  read  by  his  constituents  and  by  them  alone. 
Indeed,  it  is  spoken  for  them,  and  it  is  his  consolation  that  they  will 
canvass  it,  if  the  House  does  not  listen  to  it.     He  generally  reports 
it  at  length  for  the  papers  himself,  and  it  answers  his  purpose  if  it 
appear  even  months  after  it  has  been  delivered.     It  is  the  great 
proof  that  he  has  been  faithful  to  his  trust;    and  it  is  sometimes 
printed  in  pamphlet  form,  and  sent  down  by  the  bushel  to  the  coun- 
try, as  a  solace  to  his  friends  and  confusion  to  his  enemies.     It  is 
singular,  loo,  to  watch  the  adroitness  with  which  each  manages  to 
connect  his  own  locality,  by  some  peculiar  tie,  with  every  great 
question  which  excites  the  attention  of  the  House;  thus  endearing 
himself  all  the  more  with  his  constituents,  by  giving  them  the  most 
affecting  proof  that  their  interests  will  not  be  lost  sight  of,  whatever 
may  be  the  excess  of  his  patriotism.     When  constituencies  begin 
to  feel  that  there  are  other  modes  in  which  their  interests  may  be 
subserved  than  by  seeking  for  their  representative  a  mere  talking 
machine,  there  will  be  more  work  and  less  speaking  done  in  the 
House,  and  the  style  of  oratory  will  improve  in  proportion.     Little 
else  can  be  expected  but  rant,  where  speaking  is  done  to  order. 

Not  only  have  members  a  desire  to  be  thus  frequently  upon  their 
legs,  but,  having  once  got  upon  them,  they  would  forget  to  sit  down 
but  for  the  "gag  law,"  which  limits  each  member  to  an  hour.  It 
was  to  prevent  speeches  of  a  week  in  length  that  this  very  salutary 
rule  was  applied.  It  was  at  one  time  thought  advisable  to  extend 
it  to  the  Senate,  but  on  Mr.  Benton  letting  it  be  understood  tliat  he 
would  hold  any  man  personally  responsible  who  would  attempt  to 
gag  him,  the  design  was  not  persevered  in.     In  the  Lower  House 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  ISo 

the  evil  thus  provided  ajrainst  had  grown  to  be  so  enormoiip,  that, 
for  their  mutual  comfort,  members  at  length  submitted  to  be  generally 
phio-ged.  Some  affect  to  regard  the  process  as  a  degrading  one;  but 
as  the  stream  of  words  would  How  on,  what  alternative  was  left? 
Often  have  I  seen  a  syllogism  fairly  winged  by  a  word  from  the 
Speaker,  announcing  that  the  hour  was  up;  and  many  a  fine  trope 
and  metaphor  have  been  crushed  and  mangled  by  the  fall  of  his 
hammer,  preparatory  to  his  making  the  fatal  announcement. 

In  its  style,  American  oratory  is  totally  dififerent  from  any  thing 
ever  listened  to  in  our  legislative  assemblies.  The  debates  of  the 
House  of  Commons  are  dry,  business-like,  and  practical,  even  to  a 
fault;  the  speeches  delivered  there  not  being  cast  in  scholastic 
models,  with  lengtliy  exordiums  and  elaborate  perorations.  Here 
members  grapple  with  their  subject  at  once,  dispose  of  it,  and  re- 
sume their  seats.  It  is  not  so  in  Washington.  There  a  speech  is 
delivered,  not  so  much  with  a  view  to  elucidate  the  subject,  as  to 
making  a  speech,  and  it  is  as  ingeniously  contrived,  and  elaborately 
prepared,  as  if  it  were  destined,  beyond  all  doubt,  to  take  a  promi- 
nent part  in  the  political  literature  of  the  country.  In  St.  Stephen's, 
tropes  and  metaphors  are  only  tolerated  from  a  few,  and  by  these 
they  are  but  sparingly  used;  in  the  Capitol,  speeches  are  made  gaudy 
with  excess  of  imagery,  and  their  point  and  strength  are  sacrificed  to  the 
frippery  of  words.  No  matter  what  may  be  the  point  at  issue,  their 
range  is  generally  as  illimitable  as  the  speaker's  fancy.  The  bill 
before  the  House  may  be  for  the  better  regulation  of  the  Post-office, 
but  that  does  not  deter  a  member  speaking  upon  it  from  commencing 
with  the  discoveries  of  Columbus,  and  ending  with  the  political  exi- 
gencies of  his  own  township.  This  discursive  tendency  is  the  worst 
feature  in  American  oratory;  it  renders  the  debates  wearisome  and 
pointless,  sometimes  producing  a  good  essay,  but  never  a  good 
speech.  The  defect  would  not  be  so  hopeless,  were  the  inflation  of 
the  language  used,  or  the  quantity  of  imagery  resorted  to,  at  all  pro- 
portioned to  the  subject  in  dispute.  But  I  have  often  been  amazed 
at  the  utter  prodigality  of  bombast,  the  absolute  extravagance  of 
metaphor,  with  which  the  treatment  of  a  very  petty  point  was  over- 
loaded. When  once  let  loose  upon  this  discursive  field,  the  Ame- 
rican orator  seems  to  lose  all  self-control;  his  fancy  is  then  like  a 
wild  horse  scampering  over  an  illimitable  prairie.  The  Americans 
themselves  are  keenly  alive  to  this  defect  in  their  public  speaking, 
but  it  is  much  easier  to  deplore  than  it  is  to  eradicate  it. 

The  figures  which  are  most  fondly  resorted  to,  are  those  in  which 
the  American  Eagle  acts  a  very  prominent  part.  This  poor  bird  has 
a  very  hard  life  of  it,  and  it  is  high  time  that  his  case  were  taken  in 
hand  by  the  "Animals'  Friend  Society."  Not  that  they  mean  him 
any  harm,  poor  bird!  but  that  they  never  give  him  any  rest, keeping 
him  in  the  constant  performance  of  the  most  extraordinary  gyra- 

16^^ 


186  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

tions,  putting-  him  in  the  most  unenviable  positions,  and  sometimes 
making  liim  act  the  most  incompatible  parts  at  one  and  the  same 
time,  flow  often  have  I  heard  an  excited  orator  conjure  liim  up  in 
all  his  inflated  dimensions,  and  with  expanded  wing  send  him  sweep- 
ing over  the  lengtli  and  breadth  of  the  continent  which  he  proudly 
claimed  as  his  own!  On  how  many  lofty  rocks  is  he  not  daily 
made  to  perch !  What  imperial  panoramas  are  not  eonstandy 
stretched  beneath  his  feet!  How  he  is  made  to  soar  above  all  other 
eagles,  with  one  head  or  with  two;  and  how  the  poor  earth-bound 
British-Lion  is  made  to  tremble  at  the  very  shadow  of  his  flight  I 
The  poor  o'erlaboured  bird!  He  is  painted  in  so  many  ditierent 
colours,  and  put  in  so  many  unaccountable  positions,  that  it  is  a 
miracle  if  he  preserves  his  identity  and  continues  to  know  himself. 
Nor  is  he  always  sent  on  the  most  unexceptionable  of  missions. 
Frequently  have  I  heard  him  commissioned  to  gobble  up  the 
"whole  of  Oregon,"  without  asking  any  questions  for  conscience 
sake;  and  often  is  he  confidentially  informed,  that  he  will  one  day 
be  let  fly  at  Canada,  as  the  hawk  used  to  be  let  slip  at  the  pigeon. 
He  is  at  this  moment  gorging  himself  with  Mexico,  having  Cuba 
and  the  other  West  India  islands  in  prospect  as  a  dessert.  It  is  no 
wonder  that  an  hon.  senator  should  express  his  fear  in  the  Senate 
that  they  were  rapidly  transforming  him  into  an  obscene  bird  of 
prey.  His  case  is  a  very  pitiable  one,  and  I  have  often  wondered 
that  some  of  his  more  considerate  admirers  have  not  interposed  be- 
tween him  and  the  oratorical  martyi*dom  with  which  he  is  threatened. 
Is  compassion  dead  in  New  England?  or  is  benevolence  effete  in 
Philadelphia? 

How  fallen  in  its  general  character  is  American  oratory  from  its 
pristine  grandeur!  The  days  were  when  Philadelphia  was  the 
forum,  and  humanity  the  audience — when  patriots  spoke  in  periods 
of  scathing  eloquence,  and  the  world,  with  breath  retained  and  ear 
erect,  stood  listening  to  their  words.  But  these  were  times  when 
great  principles  were  in  dispute ;  when  topics  were  discussed  which 
concerned  man  in  his  universal  capacity,  and  in  which  man,  there- 
fore, universally  took  an  interest.  Now,  however,  these  principles 
are  admitted — these  topics  are  disposed  of — the  rights  of  humanity 
are  no  longer  problematic;  they  are  acknowledged  axioms  in  Ame- 
rica. The  platform  has  become  contracted;  questions  of  a  minor 
character  and  of  mere  local  importance  have  superseded  the  grand, 
broad  and  universal  theses,  which  distinguished  the  debates  of  the 
first  "Continental  Congress."  The  orators  of  that  time  could  be 
eloquent  without  being  ornate;  they  brandished  the  flaming  words 
of  truth,  instead  of  wandering  as  their  successors  do  in  mazes  of 
overwrought  metaphor  and  inane  imagery.  The  exciting  questions 
of  the  revolutionary  era  have  passed  away,  leaving  nothing  behind 
them  for  consideration  but  points  of  ordinary  humdrum  legislation. 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  187 

And  the  orator  of  the  present  day  should  suit  himself  to  his  circum- 
stances. It  has  not  fallen  to  his  lot  to  discuss  abstract  propositions, 
the  depth  and  breadth  of  which  were  such  as  to  enable  the  speakers 
on  them  in  former  times  to  command  the  ear  of  humanity;  but  to 
apply  his  mind  to  matters  of  routine,  and  to  questions  which  affect 
only  his  countrymen.  His  is  a  practical  mission,  and  his  should  be 
a  practical  style.  Appropriateness  is  the  perfection  of  speech- 
making.  To  get  poetical  over  a  bank  bill  is  evidendy  a  mistake  ;  to 
jumble  imagery  and  statistics  together,  a  want  of  judgment  and  a 
defect  in  taste. 

In  the  list  of  American  statesmen,  several  are  to  be  found  whose 
style  of  speaking  is  an  exception  to  that  of  the  great  bulk  of  Ame- 
rican orators,  and  who  sometimes,  w^hen  addressing  themselves  to  con- 
stitutional questions,  carry  their  hearers  back  in  imagination  to  the  days 
of  Randolph  and  Patrick  Henry.  And  in  summing  up  this  digression 
on  American  oratory,  let  me  add,  that  in  the  House  of  Commons 
we  should  be  none  the  w^orse  for  a  slight  infusion  of  American  fancy 
into  our  dry  discussions;  whilst  in  the  Capitol  they  would  be  ail 
tfie  better  for  a  liberal  adaptaUon  to  their  debates  of  the  practical 
style  which  characterizes  ours. 

It  is  to  the  inexpressible  relief  of  those  in  the  habitof  frequenting  the 
House  of  Commons,  that  any  thing  arises  during  the  course  of  the 
evening  savouring  of  a  "scene."  How  drowsy  members  wake  up  from 
their  semi-torpid  state,  and  how  their  languid  countenances  light  up 
with  interest,  when  some  incautious  word,  or  ill-advised  expression, 
gives  rise  to  a  personal  episode  in  the  dull,  dull  debate  !  Talk  of  the 
excitement  of  the  cockpit !  that  dignified  arena  never  presented  any  thing 
half  so  stirring  and  amusingas  the  intellectual  fisticuffs  in  St.  Stephen's. 
Fancy,  reader,  the  assembled  representatives  of  England  looking  on, 
whilst  Roebuck  and  D'Israeli  were  bespattering  each  other  with  as 
much  filth  as  they  could  command!  When  is  the  House  so  full  as 
w^hen  a  "scene"  is  expected?  When  was  it  that  members  used  to 
come  rushing  in  scores  from  the  Clubs,  or  that  Bellamy's  poured 
forth  its  throngs,  unmindful  of  half  consumed  steaks,  and  regardless 
of  unfinished  pints  of  port?  It  was  when  D'Israeli,  in  his  intellec- 
tual jaundice,  was  vomiting  forth  bile  at  Peel.  Why,  even  the  great 
orator  from  Edinburgh  himself  could  not  command  such  a  house  as 
did,  on  these  occasions,  the  hon.  member  for  Shrewsbury.  But 
when  Peel  was  expelled  from  office,  D'Israeli  was  driven  out  of  his 
element.  Peel  in  power  used  to  rouse  him  to  the  sublime  in  per- 
sonality— Peel  in  opposition  does  not  tempt  him  to  the  efl['ort.  Not 
that  the  hon.  gentleman  is  not,  in  his  intellectual  temperament,  quite  as 
bilious  as  ever,  but  there  is  litde  at  present  to  excite  his  bile.  The 
ratde-snake  must  have  something  to  bite,  ere  the  poison  w^ill  distil 
from  its  fangs.  And  Roebuck  is  no  longer  present  to  lash,  with  his 
scorpion  whip,  the  Irish  landlords   into  fury.     For  some  time,  at 


188  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

least,  the  House  must  trust  for  occasional    amusement  to    Henry 
G rattan  and  Sir  lienjamin  Hall. 

In  this  particular,  our  cousins  in  the  Capitol  exhibit  the  weak- 
nesses of  their  European  kinsmen.     'J'hey  have  their  scenes,  and 
they  love  tlieni   too.     They  are   sometimes,   perhaps,  of  a  more 
boisterous  character  than  we  would  like  to  see  imitated  at  home  ;  but 
they  are  frequendy  of  the  harmless  and  amusing  kind.      Tradition 
speaks  of  some  which  have  resulted  in  personal  rencontres  on  the 
floor  of  the  House;  one  of  which,  described  to  me  by  an  eye-witness, 
ended  in  the  discharge  of  a  pistol,  which  missed  its  aim,  but  lodged 
its  contents  in  the  door-keeper.     I  never  witnessed  a  tragedy  in  the 
House  of  Representatives,  but  have  seen  many  a  farce  there.     To 
the  credit  of  the  House,  scenes  of  the  serious  character  alkided  to 
are  now  almost  entirely  traditional.     Hard  words,  very  hard,  are 
sometimes  passed  from  member  to  member;  but  they  generally  re- 
serve any  breaches    of  the  peace,  which    they   may   meditate,  for 
Bladensburg,  or  some  other  point  out  of  the  jurisdiction  of  Congress. 
Of  those  which  I  witnessed,  the  scene  which  made  the  greatest  im- 
pression upon  me,  was  rather  of  the  melancholy  type.     The  occasion 
was  the  memorable  one  on  which  the  octogenarian  ex-President,  John 
Q.  Adams,  quoted  Genesis  in  support  of  his  country's  claims  to  the 
whole  of  Oregon.     He  was  in  the  habit  of  styling  Mr.  Greenhow's 
work  the  "  Gospel  of  our  title,"  but,  not  contented  with  a  gospel,  he 
must  have  a  Pentateuch  for  it  too.     His  voice  was  feeble,  and  lie  was 
hemmed  in  by  a  crowd  of  members,  eagerly  listening  to  what  he  said. 
His  quotation  of  Scripture  elicited  from  those  aiound  him  a  mingled 
expression  of  amazement  and  regret.     At  that  moment,  and  as  it  were 
in  pity  for  the  poor  old  man,  a  solitary  bar  of  sunlight  struggled  into 
the  chamber,  and  played  for  a  second  or  two  amongst  the  few^  gray 
hairs  that  still  skirted  the  base  of  his  brain,  as  if  to  remind  the  lookers- 
on  that,  in  the  traces  of  advancing  age  without,  there  was  sufhcient 
apology  for  the  strides  of  imbecility  within. 

The  scenes  with  which  members  are  sometimes  favoured,  arise 
quite  as  unexpectedly  and  incidentally  as  they  do  with  ourselves.  I 
have  known  the  most  insipid  debates  suddenly  enlivened  with  them; 
whilst  I  have  seen  questions  of  the  most  stirring  party  interest  dis- 
j)osed  of  without  their  occurrence.  Indeed  I  generally  found  that, 
when  the  House  had  any  very  serious  work  before  it,  its  decorum 
was  marked  and  exemplary.  Never  was  this  more  impressed  upon 
me  than  when  the  last  tariff  bill  passed  through  its  later  stages  in  tiie 
House.  The  question  was  one  of  intense  interest.  It  was  a  party  ques- 
tion, as  well  as  an  issue  pending  between  monopoly  and  free  trade. 
The  House  was  so  equally  divided  upon  it,  that  it  M'as  impossible  to 
foresee  the  ultimate  fate  of  the  bill.  Excitement  was  at  its  height,  and 
I  repaired  to  the  House  in  the  full  expectation  of  witnessing  a  scene. 
But  although  the  battle  was  keenly  contested  by  both  parties,  and 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  189 

although,  on  more  than  one  occasion,  fortune  seemed  to  waver  be- 
tween them,  every  thing  passed  off  with  the  utmost  quiet  and  deco- 
rum; the  decisive  vote  in  committee,  of  the  day,  being  only  carried 
by  a  majority  of  one.  It  is  a  mistake  to  think  that  great  party  ques- 
tions cannot  be  decided  without  confusion  and  violence,  or  that  the 
House  cannot  be  thoroughly  excited  witliout  coming  to  blows.  Scenes 
have  their  origin  there  as  here  in  the  idiosyncracies  of  some  and  the 
ill-regulated  passions  of  others,  but  they  are  promptly  suppressed  the 
moment  they  transcend  the  rules  of  parliamentary  propriety. 

The  funniest  feature  in  the  proceedings  of  the  House  is  a  division. 
There  are  three  ways  of  taking  the  sense  of  the  House  in  Washington. 
The  speaker  may  call  for  the  Ayes  and  Noes,  and  decide  at  once,  as 
with  us.  Any  member  dissatisfied  with  this  may  call  for  a  division, 
whereupon  the  speaker  names  two  members,  who  take  their  stand 
on  the  middle  of  the  floor,  the  pros  and  cons  passing  successively 
between  and  being  counted  by  them.  To  the  looker-on  the  confusion 
on  the  floor  when  the  division  is  taking  place  seems  inextricable,  the 
whole  House  appearing  to  twirl  round  in  two  great  eddies,  in  the 
midst  of  which  it  is  no  easy  matter  to  keep  one's  eye  on  the  tellers. 
How  they  manage  to  count  every  body,  and  how  they  refrain  from 
counting  some  six  times  over,  were  problems  beyond  my  compre- 
hension. It  is  not  always  that  a  division,  when  once  commenced,  is 
persevered  in,  the  minority  "giving  it  up"  when  it  is  evidently  hope- 
less. To  make  things  still  surer,  a  member  may  demand  the  "yeas 
and  nays,"  whereupon  each  member's  name  is  called  from  the  table 
in  alphabetical  order,  and  his  vote  duly  recorded.  A  great  deal  of 
time  is  thus  lost,  especially  when  members,  for  the  purpose  of  ob- 
struction, choose  to  "avail  themselves  of  the  forms  of  the  House." 
And  whilst  the  yeas  and  nays  are  being  taken  in  the  House  of  Re- 
presentatives we  may  pass  into  the  Senate. 

Crossing  the  Rotunda,  we  get  into  a  series  of  passages  which  lead 
to  the  ante-room  of  the  Senate.  But  let  us  to  the  gallery  above  the 
Chair,  as  affording  the  best  view  of  the  House. 

As  already  intimated,  the  Senate  Chamber  is,  in  form,  similar  to 
the  Hall  of  Representatives,  but  much  smaller  in  all  its  dimensions. 
It  is  much  belter  lighted,  more  cheerful,  and  better  adapted  in  all  re- 
spects than  the  other  House  for  the  purposes  to  which  it  is  applied. 
Indeed,  it  is  now  being  found  as  inconveniently  small  as  the  other 
Chamber  is  unnecessarily  large;  for,  as  the  introduction  of  each  new 
State  into  the  Union  adds  two  new  members  to  the  Senate,  it  will 
be  difficult  by-and-by  to  make  room  for  the  representatives  of  yet 
unborn  States.     Let  us  see  who  are  present. 

In  the  back  row,  to  the  President's  right,  that  tall  thin  man,  with 
pale  face  and  restless  eye,  is  Mr.  Allen,  of  Ohio,  the  chairman  of 
the  Senate  Committee  on  Foreign  Relations,  a  rabid  "whole  of  Ore- 
gon" man,  and  one  of  the  noisiest  of  the  leaders  of  the  war  faction. 


190  THE  WESTERN  AVORLD. 

As  he  speaks  he  makes  his  arms  swing  about  as  do  tliosc  of  a  wind- 
mill, and  sometimes  causes  the  blood  to  spirt  from  his  knuckles,  from 
the   force  with  which  he  brings  them    in   contact  with  his   desk. 
Next  to  him,  and  on  his  right,  sits  one  of  rallier  rotund  proportions, 
with  light  iiair  and  a  face  not  unlike  that  given  to  Louis  Philippe,  by 
Horace  Verney,  in  some  of  his  late  pictures.      He  is  generally  wri- 
ting or  reading,  being  apparently  indifferent  to  all  that  is  going  on 
around  him,  but  with  a  watchful  eye  on  every  body  and  on  every  thing 
all  the  while.     If  he  sleeps,  it  is  with  his  eyes  open.     He  seems 
never  to  attend,  and  yet  he  is  never  taken  by  surprise.     Watch  how, 
if  any  thing  interesting  is  said,  he  quietly  shuts  his  book,  keeping  his 
finger  at  the  page,  listens  until  he  is  satisfied,  and  then  resumes  his 
readinff;  or  how,  when  any  personal  squabble  arises,  he  leans  upon 
his  elbow  and  enjoys  it.     This  is  Mr.   Benton,  of   Missouri,  the 
genius  of  the  West,  the  foe  to  national  banks,  the  champion  of  a 
metallic  currency.     He  was  at  one  time  a  very  Sempronius,  but  is 
now  more  peaceably  disposed.     He  is  still,  and  has  ever  been,  one 
of  the  giants  of  the  Senate.     In  the  same  line,  and  near  the  centre 
of  the  room,  is  the  "  war  hawk,"  Mr.  Hannegan,  with  squat  figure, 
low  brow,  and  square  head  and  face.     There  he  sits,  chewing  tobacco 
all  day  long,  except  when  he  is  speaking,  or  doing  the  agreeable  to 
the  ladies  in  the  anteroom.     iNIr.  Hannegan  is  an  honest  man,  of 
Irish  extraction,  and  therefore  harbouring  a  becoming  hatred  of  Eng- 
land, entertaining  the  sincere  conviction  that  she  is  a  political  ogress 
or  ghoul,  or  something  worse,  if  possible.     He  is  one  of  the  most 
energetic  chiefs  of  the  "now  or  sooner"  party.     Directly  in  front 
of  him,  with  very  red  neck  and  face,  sits  General  Cass,  whilom 
minister  in  France,  and  now  looking  like  a  moral  soda-water  bottle, 
ready  to  burst  or  fly  the  cork.      He  cherishes  enmity  to  England  as 
one  of  the  cardinal  virtues,  and  can  hardly  think  or  speak  of  her 
without  verging  on  apoplexy.     A  litde  to  his  left,  and  almost  in  front 
of  Mr.  Benton,  silting  calm  and  erect  and  attentive  to  all  that  is  going 
on,  is  the  shrewd,  clear,  persuasive,  nervous,  and  impressive  Mr. 
Calhoun,  the  leader  of  the  South,  the  advocate  of   free-trade,  the 
friend  of  peace  and  the  champion  of   slavery.     Beside  him  is  hig 
colleague  Mr.  M'Dufl[ie,  who  first  startled  the  ear  of  the  Senate  by 
threatening  on  its  very  floor  the  disseverance  of  the  Union.     But  the 
fire  of  his  eye  is  gone,  his  tongue  has  lost  its  eloquence,  and  he  is 
now  paralytic  and  eflete.     TiuU  physical    phenomenon  near  him, 
looking  like  a    man  seen    through    a   glass    which    only  magnifies 
latituilinally,  is  Mr.  Lewis,  from  Alabama.     His  arm-chair  seems  to 
be  drawn  out  sideways,  until   it  resembles  a  small  couch,  so  as  to 
give  him  admittance.     He  looks  like  a  "prize  man,"  like  three  veri- 
table Alderman  Humphreys  rolled  into  one.     And  yet  this  man  has 
but  one  vote,  having  a  colleague  in  one  of  the  back  rows,  whom  he 
could  almost  put  into  his  pocket.     Turning  now  to  the  Speaker's 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  191 

left,  sitting  close  to  the  clerk's  table,  (for  he  is  amongst  the  last  of 
the  new  comers,)  is  "Sam.  Houston,"  the  conqueror  of  Texas, — 
for  it  is  absurd  to  call  him  its  liberator,  as  he  can  only  be  said  to 
have  delivered  it  in  the  sense  of  having  delivered  it  into  his  own 
hands.     He  is  very  tall,  very  loose  about  tiie  joints,  and,  on  the 
whole,  rather  greasy-looking,  with  a  very  high  narrow  head,  and  a 
small  cunning-looking  eye.     He  is    dressed    from  head  to  foot  in 
homespun  gray  (court-dress  perchance  in  Texas,)  and  passes  most 
of  his  time  lolling  back  in  his  chair,  with  one  leg  overhanging  his 
desk,  in  which  position  he  whitdes  away  at  wooden  cigar-lights, 
which  he  has  brought  with  him  from  the  hotel,  occasionally  pointing 
them  that  he  may  pick  his  teeth.     In  default  of  these,  he  cuts  up 
every  pen  within  his  reach.     Even  now  you  may  see  the  debris  of 
his  day's  labours  lying  in  heaps  at  his  feet.     And  yet  this  is  the  man 
who  has  added  a  territory  to  his  country,  out  of  which  a  whole  con- 
stellation of  States  will  yet  arise.     He  would  be  truly  lordly  in  his 
manner,  and  succeeds  in  being  awkwardly  polite.     Beside  him  sits 
his  colleague,  the  quondam  Secretary  of  State  to  the  now  defunct  re- 
public of  the  "Lone  Star."     Immediately  behind  them  you  come 
upon  a  whole  galaxy  of  Whigs,  the  first  of  whom  to  demand  atten- 
tion is  Daniel  Webster,  one  of  the  greatest  statesmen,  as  he  is  cer- 
tainly the  most  profound  constitutional  lawyer  of  the  Union.     Like 
Mr.  Benton,  he  is  generally  busy  with  books  or  papers,  neither  of 
them  speaking  but  on  great  occasions.     Is  that  a  cheque-book  that 
he  is  just  signing?     No;  but  a  lady's  album,  which  the  little  boy 
beside  him,  for  a  douceur,  has  smuggled  into  the  Senate,  with  the 
intention  of  procuring  for  the  owner  of  the  said  album  the  autographs 
of  the  "remarkable  men"  in  the  body.     It  is  next  handed  to  Air. 
Crittenden  from  Kentucky,  who  signs  it  as  if  he  were  used  to  it, 
without  asking  any  questions.     Take  him  all  in  all,  he  is  perhaps 
the  most  accomplished  orator  in  the  Senate,  having  a  classic  diction, 
with  a  vein  of  sarcasm,  which  sometimes  gives  great  piquancy  to  his 
speeches.     He  was  Attorney-general  during  the  brief  administration 
of  General  Harrison,  and  is  set  down  amongst  those  who  are  "on 
the  track,"  on  the  Whig  side,  for  the  Presidency.     In  front  of  him 
is  Mr.  Clayton,  of  Delaware,  a  man  of  strong  practical  mind,  although 
not  possessed  to  any  great  degree  of  the  "gift  of  tongues."     A  little 
to  his  left  is  the  "other  Clayton,"  from  the  same  State,  a  man  who 
is  supposed  to  have  lost  his  articulation  since  taking  the  oath,  on  his 
admission  to  the  body,  as  he  has  never  since  been  heard  to  speak — a 
marvellous  forbearance,  all  things  considered.     He  chews  and  votes, 
and  votes  and  chews.     He  appears  to  be  thoroughly  stained   with 
tobacco,  his  complexion  being  that  of  a  well-coloured  meerschaum. 
Yet  a  most  worthy  man  is  the  "other  Clayton."     In  this  part  of 
the  House  there  is  an  hiatus,  which  you  would  fain  have  filled  up. 
You  would  like  to  see  Henry  Clay  in  his  accustomed  place; — the 


192  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

eloquent,  the  imperious,  ay,  even  the  tyrannical,  the  ugly,  the  gen- 
tlemanly Henry  Clay.  He  gave  up  his  seat  in  the  Senate  to  gain 
the  Presidency,  and  lost  both.  Like  the  man  between  two  stools, 
he  stumbled  between  the  Capitol  and  the  White  House.  He  is  now 
a  scientitic  farmer  in  Kentucky,  and  dreams  now  and  then  of  another 
race  for  the  executive  chair,  which,  if  it  ever  take  place,  will  certainly 
be  his  last,  for  he  is  verging  on  seventy  ;  and  since  General  Harrison's 
sudden  death,  parties  have  become  chary  of  selecting  "  very  old  men" 
as  their  candidates.  It  is,  now-a-days,  the  most  contemptuous  way 
of  speaking  of  a  candidate,  to  say  that  he  is  *'too  old  for  President." 

The  coup-cVceil  of  the  Senate  is  striking.  In  all  that  enters  into 
our  conceptions  of  a  deliberative  assembly,  it  is  as  far  before  the 
House  of  Lords,  as  the  House  of  Commons  is  before  the  House  of 
Representatives.  The  mode  in  which  business  is  occasionally  trans- 
acted in  the  House  of  Lords  is  a  perfect  farce.  Sometimes  the  most 
important  questions  are  disposed  of  by  less  than  half  a  dozen  peers. 

I  remember  one  occasion,  on  which  the  Duke  of  Buccleugh,  in 
movincT  the  second  reading^  of  some  Scotch  bill  with  which  the  Duke 
of  Wellington  had  intrusted  him,  was  about  to  enter  into  an  elaborate 
statement  of  its  nature  and  objects,  so  as  to  meet  all  objections  to  it 
at  once,  when  he  was  stopped  by  Lord  Lyndhurst,  then  Chancellor, 
who  was  standing  by  the  woolsack  impatient  to  get  to  dinner,  and 
who  asked  him  very  drily,  if  he  was  addressing  himself  to  noble  lords 
opposite?  pointing  to  the  opposition  benches.     The  noble  duke  at 
once  saw  the  absurdity  of  his   position,  for  there  was  not  a  single 
opposition    peer    present — himself,    the    Duke    of   Wellington,   the 
Chancellor,  and  Lord  Stanley,  constituting  the  entire  House.      There 
are  no  such  legislative  burlettas  in  the  Senate  of  the   United  States. 
Every  member,  unless  detained  by  illness  or  urgent  business,  is  daily 
at  his  post.     They  are,  generally  speaking,  an  intellectual  body  of 
men — gentlemanly  in  their  mutual  intercourse,  and  courteous  in  their 
deportment  towards  each  other.     They  will  tolerate  no  sleight-of- 
hand  tricks  by  which  to  secure  a  vote  one  way  or  the  other;  and  I 
liave  frequendy  known  a  division  postponed,  at  the  instigation  of 
one  memljer,  on  account  of  the  unavoidable  absence  of  another.     The 
Senate  takes  a  just  pride  in  its  own  good  character,  and  the  Ameri- 
cans are  jnsdy  proud  of  the  Senate.     It  is  very  careful,  too,  of  its 
reputation,  reproof  being  frequently  administered  to   the  few  fiery 
spirits  who  have  latterly  got  into  it,  by  a  reminder,  when  they  are 
guilty  of  any  indecorum,  that  they  are  not  in  the  other  wing  of  the 
Capitol. 

The  Senate  is  the  truly  conservative  feature  of  the  Constitution. 
It  is  the  balance-wheel,  by  whose  action  the  whole  federal  system  is 
kept  from  resolving  itself  into  its  original  atoms.  It  is  to  it  that  the 
country  looks  for  salvation,  when,  for  a  season,  the  democracy  may 
have  run  mad.     It  has  more  than  once  preserved  the  integrity  of 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  193 

the  Union  by  its  calm,  and  resolute  intervention  between  the 
country  and  destruction.  On  every  occasion  of  this  kind,  it  has 
called  down  upon  itself  a  storm  of  obloquy,  which  has  more  than 
once  threatened  its  extinction.  Such  was  the  case  when  it  steadily 
placed  itself  between  the  other  House  of  Congress  and  the  preci- 
pice to  which  it  was  rushing,  when,  by  an  overwhelming  majority, 
that  House  adopted  tlie  warlike  Oregon  resolutions.  Calm  and 
dignified,  regardless  of  menace,  and  unmindful  of  every  thing  but 
its  duty,  it  rejected  them  at  its  leisure,  and  so  modified  them,  that 
their  adoption,  in  their  altered  form,  became  as  necessary  to  the 
maintenance  of  peace,  as,  in  their  original  shape,  they  would  have 
been  the  certain  prelude  to  war.  It  was  adroidy  as  it  was  patrioti- 
cally done.  The  resolutions,  which  originated  with  the  war  party, 
became  at  last  the  most  potent  weapons  in  the  hands  of  the  peace 
party.  The  latter  thus  took  from  the  former  its  own  weapons,  and 
turned  them  against  itself.  After  some  difficulty,  and  with  many 
contortions  of  countenance,  the  House  was  obliged  to  swallow^  the 
modified  resolutions  of  the  Senate.  A  bellicose  House,  and  a  war- 
like administration,  were  thus  bearded  and  successfully  defied  by  the 
conservative  Chamber;  and  the  United  Kingdom  and  the  United 
States,  and  indeed  the  whole  world,  remained  at  peace.  As  soon  as 
it  was  suspected  that  the  Senate  would  reject  the  resolutions  of  the 
House,  the  cry  of  "Look  to  the  Senate!"  was  raised  throughout  the 
land,  with  a  view,  if  possible,  to  create  such  a  pressure  from  without 
as  would  compel  it  to  accede  to  them.  "Look  to  the  Senate!"  was 
written  on  every  wall  in  Washington;  and  as  you  walked  the  streets 
the  menace  stared  you,  from  the  brick  pavements,  in  the  face.  But 
instead  of  a  threat,  "  Look  to  the  Senate  !"  at  last  became  a  cry  of 
hope, — the  friends  of  peace  taking  it  up  as  a  cry  ominous  of  good. 
It  was  well  for  all  parties  that  they  did  not  look  to  the  Senate  in  vain. 
It  was  well  for  the  United  States — for  the  next  greatest  calamity  to  an 
unsuccessful  war  with  England,  that  could  befall  them,  would  be  a 
successful  one. 

To  one  in  the  habit  of  regarding  the  distribution  of  power  between 
the  different  branches  of  the  legislature  in  this  country,  the  great  in- 
fluence of  the  Senate  in  the  A.merican  system  is  a  matter  of  some 
surprise.  We  are  accustomed  to  look  upon  a  resolute  House  of 
Commons  as  an  overmatch  for  its  colleagues  in  legislation.  It  is  not 
often  that  the  House  of  Lords  resists  its  voice;  it  never  ultimately 
succeeds  when  it  does  so.  But  the  Senate  feels  itself  to  be,  in  all 
respects,  the  co-equal  of  the  other  House  of  Congress,  and  frequently 
beards  it  so  as  to  defeat  its  all  but  unanimous  purposes.  The  solu- 
tion of  this  diff'erence  is  to  be  found  in  the  diff'erent  constitution  of  the 
two  bodies.  The  strength  of  the  House  of  Commons  is  without;  its 
foundations  lie  broad  and  deep  in  public  opinion;  it  represents  the 
people,  and  is  irresistible.  The  Lords,  on  the  other  hand,  represent 
VOL.  I. —  17 


194  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

but  their  own  order,  whose  interests  are  always  supposed  to  be  in 
antagonism  with  those  of  the  masses.  It  is  enough  that  they  resist 
the  House  of  Commons  in  a  favourite  measure,  to  raise  a  cry  and 
direct  the  whole  force  of  public  opinion  against  them.  Occupying 
but  a  narrow  basis,  they  cannot  long  resist,  and  the  House  of  Com- 
mons is  omnipotent. 

Not  so  llie  House  of  Representatives.  It  has  its  match  in  the 
Senate,  which  springs  from  the  same  source,  and  has  a  footing  as 
broad  and  as  deep  as  itself.  When  the  two  Houses  at  Washington 
disagree,  tlie  people  only  see  the  two  classes  of  their  own  represen- 
tatives in  conflict.  A  victory  by  the  one  or  the  other  is  a  triumph 
neither  for  nor  against  the  people  ;  it  is  only  the  success  of  the  one 
set  of  delesfates  against  the  other.     The  contest  does  not,  as  too  often 

O  3  -111 

with  us,  assume  the  odious  form  of  class  against  class,  when  the 
peers  are  coerced  into  acquiescence  that  the  people  may  not  be 
roused  to  frenzy  by  defeat.  The  Senate  is  as  strong  out  of  doors  as 
its  rival.     It  is  otherwise  with  the  House  of  Lords. 

There  is  something  poetically  suggestive  of  the  territorial  vastness 
of  the  Confederacy,  in  the  mode  in  which  the  President  of  the  Se- 
nate recognises  its  different  members  as  they  rise  to  address  him.  It 
is  not  "Mr.  Calhoun,"  or  "  Mr.  Benton,"  for  instance;  but  "The 
Senator  from  South  Carolina,"  or  "  The  Senator  from  Missouri,"  as 
the  case  maybe.  During  the  hour  set  apart  for  ordinary  routine 
business,  when  they  succeed  each  other  rapidly  on  the  floor,  the 
effect  of  this  style  of  recognition  upon  the  mind  of  the  stranger  is 
singular  and  impressive.  Just  now,  it  may  be,  a  senator  from  the 
St.  Lawrence,  anon  one  from  the  banks  of  the  Mississippi.  You 
have  senators  from  the  Great  Lakes,  and  senators  from  the  Gulf; 
senators  from  the  Atlantic,  and  senators  from  the  spurs  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains;  senators  from  the  sources,  and  senators  from  the  mouths 
of  the  Mississippi;  senators  from  the  neighbourhood  of  the  West 
Indies,  and  senators  from  the  vicinity  of  New-Foundland.  It  is 
difficult  for  the  mind  thus  to  follow  them  about  over  the  range  of  an 
entire  continent.  The  very  names  of  the  different  States  give  rise 
to  curious  reflections.  In  New  York,  Louisiana,  Florida,  and 
Texas,  what  have  we  but  the  accumulated  spoils  of  England,  France, 
Spain,  and  Mexico?  Here  they  are  now  represented  one  and  all 
under  the  same  roof,  united  in  the  same  bonds,  and  revolving  in  the 
same  political  system.  How  long  thus  to  continue?  is  the  question, 
considerincr  the  distances  at  which  they  lie,  the  interests  which  they 
possess,  and  the  different  skies  under  which  they  spread.  Will  their 
delegates  still  be  sitting  together  as  they  do  now,  when  the  senators 
from  Oregon  and  California  are  ready  to  come  in? 

The  habitually  calm,  dignified  attitude  of  the  Senate  presents  a 
striking  contrast  to  the  fierce  excitements  which  occasionally  carry 
the  House  of  Representatives  beyond  the  bounds  of  prudence  and 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  195 

iVie  limits  of  self-respect.     Never  was   this  contrast,  in  my  experi- 
ence, so  complete,  as  on  the  first  meeting  of  the  two  Houses  aller 
news  had  arrived  in  the  capital  of  the  actual  commencement  of  hos- 
tilities on  the  Rio  Grande.     The  intelligence  reached  Washington  on 
Saturday  night ;  and  such  was  the  impatience  of  many  members  of 
the  Lower  House  to  act  upon  it,  that  they  would  have  abolished  the 
intervening  Sabbath  for  that  occasion  if  they  could.     On  Monday 
morning,  there  was   a  universal  rush  to  the   Capitol.     A  message 
from  the  President  was  communicated  to  both  Houses,  and  before 
the  close  of  that  day's  sitting,  the  House  of  Representatives,  in  the 
midst  of  an  excitement  which  it  was  almost  appaUing  to  wuness, 
passed,  through  all  its  stages,  a  bill  for  the  appropriation  of  ten  millions 
of  dollars,  and  for  raising  a  volunteer  force  of  fifty  thousand  men  to 
prosecute  the  war.     They  did  not  then  foresee    how  small  a  pro- 
portion this  sum  would  be  to  the  ultimate  cost  of  the  adventure;  nor 
would  they  listen  to  the  prediction,  since  truly  verified,  that  instead 
of  volunteers,  they  would  require  many  thousands   of  regulars  to 
prosecute  the  war  with  effect.     The  Senate  took  the  matter  much 
more  coolly.     True,  there  were  in  it  a  few  excitable  gentlemen,  such 
as  3Ir.  Hannegan  and  Mr.  Allen,  who  found  themselves  in  a  '•  scrim- 
mage" at  last,  and  Mr.  Sevier  of  Arkansas,  who  seems  more  fitted  to 
charge  at  the  head  of  a  dragoon  regiment  than  to  act  as  a  legislator, 
and  who  was  for  making  every  man  a  brigadier-general  on  the  spot, 
and  trusting  to  Providence  for  recruits.     But  the  majority  were  calm 
and  collected,  and  smothered,  if  they  did  not  quench,  the  fires  of 
their  more  excitable  colleagues.     On  the  message  being  read  from 
the  table,  Mr.  Calhoun  immediately  rose,  and  counselled  the  Senate 
to  remember  its  own  dignity — to  be  carried  away  by  no  mere  im- 
pulses, but  to  act  with  the  deliberation  and  calmness  which  gene- 
rally characterized  its  proceedings.     His  words  fell,  in  the  main, 
upon  willing  ears;   and  the  business  of  the  day,  stirring  and  impor- 
tant as  it  was,  passed  off  with  the  utmost  quietness  and  decorum. 

To  account  for  the  difference  thus  existing  between  the  two  Cham- 
!)ers,  for  the  quiet  orderly  bearing  of  the  one,  and  the  occasionally 
intemperate  conduct  of  the  other,  is  no  difficult  task.  The  Senate  is, 
generally  speaking,  composed  of  men  advanced  in  years,  and  of  great 
political' experience.  Most  of  its  members  have  been  governors  of, 
or  held  high  posts  in,  their  respective  States;  and  most  of  them,  by 
their  translation  to  the  federal  Senate,  have  gained  the  summit  of 
their  ambition.  They  can,  therefore,  sit  down  calmly  to  the  work 
of  legislation,  bringing  the  tempering  counsels  of  age  to  bear  upon 
the  teachings  of  experience.  A  fe\v  of  them  may  aspire  to  the 
Presidencv,  and  may  intrigue  and  manoeuvre  to  obtain  it;  but  the  ma- 
jority have  realized'  all  their  political  aspirations,  and  can  therefore 
give  their  whole  thoughts  to  their  country's  good.  Very  different, 
however,  is  it  with  the  more  fiery  material  on  the  other  side  of  the 


196  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

Rotunda.  In  llie  House  of  Representatives  a  gray  head  is  the  rare 
exception.  Composed  cliiefly  of  young  blood,  the  great  majority  of 
its  members  bring  inexperience  and  personal  ambition  to  the  work  of 
legislation.  They  have  no  past  on  wliich  to  repose — the  future  is 
all  before  them-  They  have  merely  commenced  to  mount  the  ladder, 
and  the  strife  is  who  will  mount  it  the  quickest  and  the  highest. 
Notoriety  is  what  they  want;  and  if  a  fiery  speech  or  eccentric  con- 
duct will  secure  it,  they  deliver  the  one  as  readily  as  they  pursue  the 
other.  Most  of  them  too  are  but  debutants  on  the  only  really  re- 
spectable political  arena  of  the  country,  and  have  not  yet  thoroughly 
divested  themselves  of  the  contracted  views,  contentious  liabits,  and 
miscellaneous  vices  of  the  petty  spheres  in  which  they  have  hitherto 
revolved.  By  the  time  their  minds  become  expanded,  their  deport- 
ment sedate,  or  their  views  really  and  disinterestedly  patriotic,  they 
are  either  transferred  to  the  Senate,  or  altogether  disappear  from  the 
political  field.  Thus  differently  constituted,  it  is  no  wonder  that  the 
two  Chambers  are  frequently  so  differently  conducted. 

But  we  must  now  leave,  as  the  Senate  is  about  to  resolve  itself  into 
executive  session.  It  is  nearly  three  in  the  afternoon,  and  we  have 
scarcely  gained  Pennsylvania-avenue,  when  the  "star-spangled  ban- 
ner," vvhich  waves  over  the  Capitol  during  their  sittings,  is  run  down 
from  its  flag-staff,  to  announce  that  both  Houses  are  up  for  the  day. 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  197 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


THE  JUDICIARY  SYSTEM  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES. 

The  Basement  Story  of  the  Capitol. — The  Supreme  court  and  its  Accommo- 
dations.— The  Federal  and  Local  Judiciary. — Great  Defect  in  the  Articles 
of  Confederation. — A  National  Judiciary  the  creation  of  the  Constitution. — 
Extent  of  the  Judicial  Powers  of  the  Union. — Mode  of  exercising  them. — 
The  Supreme  Court. — Inferior  Courts. —  Constitution  and  Jurisdiction  of 
the  Supreme  Court. — Perplexing  Questions  respecting  its  Jurisdiction — 
Constitution  and  Jurisdiction  of  the  Inferior  Federal  Courts. — Subordina- 
tion, in  certain  cases,  of  the  Legislative  to  the  Judicial  Power. — Explana- 
tion of  this. — The  Constitution  the  Supreme  and  Fundamental  Law. — Power 
of  the  Supreme  Court,  in  certain  cases,  to  annul  the  Acts  of  a  State  Legisla- 
ture.— Explanation  of  this — The  Judiciary  System,  as  it  relates  to  the 
several  States. — The  Common  Law  of  England  the  basis  of  American 
Jurisprudence,  with  the  exception  of  the  State  of  Louisiana. — The  Judiciary 
System  of  New  York  explained,  as  an  Illustration  of  American  Jurispru- 
dence, as  it  relates  to  the  several  States. — The  County  Courts. — The 
Registry  System. — The  Bar  of  New  York. — Conclusion. 

Wandering  one  day  in  the  basement  story  of  the  Capitol,  which 
resembles,  in  some  respects,  the  crypt  of  one  of  our  cathedrals,  I  got 
lost  amongst  the  numerous  and  stunted  pillars  which  support  the  dome 
of  the  edifice.  On  extricating  myself  from  these,  I  strayed  into  some 
tolerably  lighted  passages,  in  one  of  which  was  a  door,  to  which  my 
attention  was  directed  by  familiar  sounds  which  proceeded  from  with- 
in. I  entered,  and  found  myself  in  what  appeared  to  be  a  large  vault, 
newly  whitewashed.  It  was  full  of  people,  the  first  whom  I  recog- 
nised being  Mr,  Webster,  who  was  on  his  legs  speaking  in  a  very 
dry  and  leisurely  style,  upon  patents,  and  the  law  of  patents.  He 
did  not  seem  to  be  addressing  any  body  in  particular,  but  before  him 
were  seated  four  or  five  very  shrewd-looking  and  very  attentive  gen- 
tlemen, all  in  a  row,  and  habited  in  black  gowns — a  rather  curious 
spectacle  in  the  republican  hemisphere.  There  were  also  many 
ladies  and  gentlemen  present,  evidently  in  the  character  of  amateurs. 
I  had  scarcely  recovered  from  the  first  surprise  occasioned  by  my 
accidentallv  stumbling  on  such  a  scene,  when  the  conviction  flashed 
upon  my  mind  that  I  was  in  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United 
States. 

As  the  subject  which  engaged  the  attention  of  the  Court  was  very 
crotchety,  and  the  argument  of  the  "constitutional  lawyer"  exceed- 

17* 


198  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

intrly  dry,  my  mind  soon  took  counsel  of  its  free  will,  and  wandered 
to  topics  more  relevant  to  the  place  than  to  the  case.  I  was  asto- 
nished to  find  the  first  tribunal  in  the  land  so  very  wretchedly  lodged. 
The  chamber  resembled  a  small  section,  but  pretty  well  lighted,  of 
the  London  Dock  vaults,  its  space  being  broken  by  the  short  massive 
pillars,  which  supported  its  low  half-arched  looking  roof.  It  is  in 
fact  neither  more  nor  less  than  a  sort  of  cellar  to  the  Senate  Chamber, 
the  floor  of  which  is  partly  supported  by  the  pillars  in  question.  It 
may  be  more  convenient  than  becominrr,  thus  to  have  the  laws,  which 
are  made  above,  sent  down  stairs  to  be  executed.  And  yet,  as  we 
shall  see  by-and-by,  there  are  cases  in  which  the  gentlemen  in  the 
area  are  the  constitutional  superiors  of  the  occupants  of  the  first 
floor. 

I  seated  myself  on  one  of  the  back  benches,  and,  taking  no  interest 
in  the  immediate  question,  inasmuch  as  I  was  not  a  patentee,  amused 
myself  with  jotting  down  some  memoranda,  by  the  help  of  which  I 
now  proceed  to  lay  before  the  reader  a  succinct  account  of  the  judi- 
ciary system  of  the  Union.  In  doing  so  it  is  not  my  intention  to 
confine  myself  to  a  consideration  of  the  federal  judiciary  only,  and 
the  mode  in  which  its  functions  are  exercised,  in  contra-distinction 
to  the  means  whereby  justice  is  administered  in  and  by  the  diflerent 
States  of  the  Union — my  design  being  to  take  a  general  survey  of  the 
distribution  of  judicial  'power  between  the  States  and  the  United 
States,  and  of  the  difl'erent  systems  by  which  justice  is  nationally  and 
locally  administered.  Nor  would  this  be  the  place,  in  which  to  enter 
into  a  minute  analysis  of  the  nature  and  limits  of  all  the  powers  con- 
ferred upon,  and  exercised  by,  the  difl!*erent  courts  of  the -Union,  or 
into  an  examination  of  all  the  instances  in  which  their  jurisdictions 
conflicted  or  were  co-ordinate  with  each  other.  There  are  certain 
broad  lines,  connected  with  the  outline  of  the  subject,  which  arrest 
the  attention  of  every  one  on  the  spot  to  observe  for  himself,  and  it  is 
simply  these  which  it  is  at  present  my  object  to  trace. 

The  want  of  a  national,  in  contradistinction  to  a  local  judiciary, 
was  one  of  the  greatest  defects  of  the  federative  system  which  pre- 
ceded the  adoption  of  the  present  constitution.  That  document  con- 
fers upon  the  United  States,  in  addition  to  their  legislative  and  execu- 
tive powers,  a  judicial  authority,  which  the  articles  of  confederation 
did  not  extend  to  them.  The  authority,  so  granted,  is  stricdy  limited 
by  the  terms  by  which  it  is  created;  the  Union,  which  is,  in  all  its 
parts  and  manifestations,  the  mere  creature  of  the  Constitution,  having 
no  judicial  power  whatever  beyond  the  range  of  the  enumerated 
cases  in  which  such  power  has  been  conceded  to  it.  The  principle 
that  all  powers  not  specifically  granted  are  reserved  to  the  people  of 
the  dilTerent  States,  is  as  applicable  to  the  judicial,  as  to  the  executive 
and  legislative  departments  of  the  federal  government.  The  clause 
of  the  Constitution  creating  the  judicial  power  of  the  Union,  confined 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  199 

it  to  the  eleven  following  cases: — 1st,  To  cases,  in  law  and  equity, 
arising  under  the  Constitution  itself.  2d,  To  similar  cases  arising 
under  the  laws  of  the  United  States.  3d,  To  similar  cases  aiising 
under  treaties  made,  or  which  should  thereafter  be  made,  under  the 
authority  of  the  United  Slates.  4th,  To  all  cases  affecting  ambas- 
sadors, other  public  ministers,  and  consuls.  5th,  To  all  cases  of 
admiralty  and  maritime  jurisdiction.  6th,  To  controversies  in  which 
the  United  States  should  be  a  party.  7th,  To  controversies  between 
two  or  more  States.  8th,  To  those  between  a  State  and  the  citizens 
of  another  State.  9th,  To  those  between  citizens  of  difl'erent  States. 
lOlh,  To  controversies  between  citizens  of  the  same  State,  claiming 
lands  under  grants  of  different  States;  and  11th,  To  such  as  might 
arise  between  a  State,  or  the  citizens  thereof,  and  foreign  States, 
citizens  or  subjects.  This  limitation  enibraces  a  wide  range,  it  is 
true;  but,  in  the  far  more  extended  field  which  lies  beyond,  the 
administration  of  justice  between  man  and  man  is  confined  to  the 
constituted  tribunals  of  the  separate  Stales.  The  United  States 
courts  can  no  more  issue  their  process  into  Pennsylvania,  in  ordinary 
cases,  between  citizen  and  citizen,  than  the  United  States  can  con- 
struct a  canal  from  Philadelphia  to  Pottsville,  and  tax  the  Pennsyl- 
vanians  for  its  cost. 

But  the  framers  of  the  Constitution  were  not  satisfied  with  specify- 
incr  the  limits  to  which  the  judicial  power  of  the  Union  was  to  ex- 
tend. They  also  prescribe  the  mode  in  which  that  power  was  to  be 
exercised,  by  designating  the  channels  through  which  the  administra- 
tion of  justice  was  to  flow.  The  judicial  power  of  the  United  States 
is  declared  by  the  Constitution  to  be  vested  "in  one  supreme  court, 
and  in  such  inferior  courts  as  the  Congress  may,  from  time  to  time, 
ordain  and  establish."  From  this  it  appears  that,  in  constructing  the 
machinery  whereby  justice  is,  in  its  national  sense,  to  be  adminis- 
tered, Congress,  with  one  exception,  is  intrusted  with  a  species  of 
unfettered  discretion.  The  Constitution  itself  provides  for  the  esta- 
blishment of  the  Supreme  Court.  So  far  as  that  tribunal  was  con- 
cerned, Congress  had  no  option,  having  the  power  neither  to  prevent 
its  erection,  nor  to  abolish  it  when  constituted,  nor  to  curtail  or  en- 
laro^e  its  jurisdiction.  But  the  important  matter  of  the  creation  of 
inferior  courts  was  left  entirely  to  its  discretion;  and  the  greatness 
and  responsibility  of  the  power  thus  conferred  upon  it  will  be  better 
understood,  when  the  jurisdiction  of  the  supreme  court  and  that  of 
the  inferior  courts  are  considered. 

The  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States  is  a  court  of  original 
and  of  appellate  jurisdiction.  Its  original  authority,  however,  ex- 
tends to  only  two  of  the  cases  already  enumerated,  its  jurisdiction  in 
all  the  others  being  exclusively  of  an  appellate  character.  The  cases 
in  which  it  has  original  jurisdiction  are  such  as  affect  ambassadors, 
other  public  ministers  and  consuls,  and  such  as  a  State  may  be  a  party 


200  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

to.     With  regard  to  the  former,  the  Constitiition  remains  in  this  re- 
spect unahered;   but  with   reference  to   the  latter,  a  very  important 
amendment  was  afterwards  proposed  and  adopted.     It  would  certainly 
appear  that,  when  the  citizens  of  another  State,  or  of  a  foreign  State, 
had  claims  to  prosecute  against  any  one  State,  the  impartial  adminis- 
tration of  justice  would  require  that  tlie  party  thus  proceeded  against 
should  not  be   the    party    having    the  sole    power  to  adjudicate  in 
the  matter.     It  was  to  provide  against  this,  that  the  article  of  the 
Constitution    creating   the   judicial    power   not   only  extended    the 
authority  of  the   federal   courts   lo  cases   in    which  a  State  should 
be  a  party,  either  plaintiff  or  defendant;  but  also,  by  giving  these 
courts  original  jurisdiction   in  such  cases,  empowered  the  States,  or 
the  parties  proceeding  against  a  State  or  States,  to  resort  to  them  at 
once,  without  initiating  their  proceedings  elsewhere.     In  cases  in 
which  a  State  was  plaintiff,  no  objections  were  ever  raised  to  the 
arranorement  made  by  the  Constitution;  as  it  was  obviously  more 
proper  that  the  plaintiff  should,  in  such  cases,  resort  to  the  national 
tribunals,  than  appeal  to  the  courts  of  a  sister  State,  of  which  the 
defendant  or  defendants   might  be  members.     But  the   most  serious 
objections  were  very  speedily  raised  to  the  liability  of  the  States  to 
be  sued  in  certain  cases  before  the  federal  courts.     The  number  of 
the  claims  presented  against  them  in  these  courts,  and  the  decisions 
in  which  some  of  them  resulted,  particularly  that  in  a  case  in  which 
the  State  of  Georgia  was  the  defendant,  when  the  Supreme  Court 
solemnly  decided  that  its  jurisdiction  equally  extended  to  cases  in 
which  States  were  defendants  as  to  those  in  which  they  were  plain- 
tiffs, so  alarmed  the  different  States  for  the  consequences,  that  in 
1798,  only  nine  years  after  the   adoption   of  the  Constitution,  an 
amendment  to  it  was  ratified  to  the  effect,  that  "the  judicial  power  of 
the  United  States"  should  not  extend  to  cases  ''commenced  or  pro- 
secuted against  one  of  the  United  States  by  citizens  of  another  State, 
or  by  citizens  or  subjects  of  a  foreign  State."     The  result  of  this  is 
that,  in  such  cases,  a  State  can  no  longer  be  made  a  party  defendant 
to  an  action  in  any  of  the  federal  courts;  although  it  is  still  liable  to 
be  made  a  defendant,  or  to  be  sued  in  these  courts,  when  another 
State  or  a  foreign  State,  instead  of  the  citizens  of  another  State  or 
the  subjects  of  a  foreign  State,  is  plaintiff^.     But  as  this  amendment 
has  reference  only  to  one  of  the  two  instances  in  which  the  jurisdic- 
tion of  the  Supreme  Court  is  declared  to  be  original,  the  question 
has  since  arisen  whether  the  Supreme  Court  has  been  divested  by 
it  of  any  more  than  its  original  jurisdiction  in  the  cases  contemplated 
by  the  amendment.     Thus,  although  the  citizens  of  one  State  can 
no  longer  sue  another  State,  or  the  citizens  of  a  foreign  State  any 
of  the  United  States,  except  in  the  tribunals  of  the  State  pi'oceeded 
against,  it  does  not  necessarily  follow  that  the  Supreme  Federal 
Court  has  not  appellate  jurisdiction  in  the  matter  so  as  to  enable 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 


201 


either  parly,  dissatisfied  with  the  decision  of  the  Stale  Court,  to 
apply  for  its  reversal  in  the  national  tribunal.  !f  the  Supreme 
Court  has  not  been  divested  of  this  appellate  jurisdiction  by  the 
amendment,  in  the  cases  specified,  it  follows  that,  in  these  cases,  a 
State  may  still  be  summoned  before  it,  when  it  is  called  upon  to 
defend  a  writ  of  error.  It  has  been  decided  that  the  appellate  juris- 
diction of  the  court  has  not  been  taken  away;  and  the  whole  question 
aflxjrds  an  excellent  illustration  of  what  was  said  in  a  former  chapter 
of  the  intricacy  of  the  American  system,  as  seen  in  the  lines  of  dis- 
tinction, sometimes  so  nice  as  to  be  almost  impalpable,  which  inter- 
vene between  federal  and  local  authority. 

Explicit  as  the  terms  of  the  Constitution  would  appear  to  be  in  all 
that  relates  to  the  organization  and  authority  of  the  national  tribunals, 
the  point  just  alluded  to  is  not  the  only  one  which  has  given  rise  to 
perplexing  questions  between  American  jurists.  Much  argument 
has  been  lavished,  for  instance,  upon  the  question,  whether  the  affir- 
mation of  certain  powers,  in  specified  cases,  in  the  Supreme  Court, 
does  not  preclude  it  from  exercising  in  these  cases  those  other 
powers  which  are  exclusively  conferred  upon  it  in  other  cases.  It 
is  perfectly  obvious  that  the  Supreme  Court  has  no  original  jurisdic- 
tion, except  in  the  two  cases  in  which  such  jurisdiction  has  been 
granted  it;  nor  is  it  in  the  power  of  Congress,  by  any  act,  to  enlarge 
or  curtail  that  jurisdiction.  In  all  but  these  its  jurisdiction  is  ex- 
clusively appellate.  Thus,  for  instance,  in  all  admiralty  and  mari- 
time cases,  and  in  such  as  arise  under  the  Constitution,  the  laws,  or 
the  treaties  of  the  United  States,  the  Supreme  Court  has  appellate 
but  no  original  authority,  unless  the  character  of  the  parties  vest  it 
with  such.  So  far  all  is  plain  enough.  But  the  question  is,  Has 
appellate  jurisdiction  been  denied  it  in  cases  in  which  original  juris- 
diction has  been  conferred  upon  it?  Thus,  in  a  controversy  in  which 
a  State  may  be  plaintiff,  its  powers  are  original;  but  does  an  appeal 
lie,  in  such  case,  from  an  inferior  national  tribunal  to  the  Supreme 
Court  of  the  United  Slates?  The  current  of  authority  seems  to  be 
in  favour  of  the  aflnrmative  of  the  question;  but  there  still  exists  some 
diversity  of  opinion  upon  it.  If  the  negative  were  to  prevail,  it  is 
very  obvious  that  one  clause  of  the  Constitution  would  direcdy 
countervail  another.  For  instance,  the  Supreme  Court  has  appellate 
jurisdiction  in  all  cases  arising  under  the  laws,  treaties,  and  constitu- 
tion of  the  Union.  But  it  has  original  jurisdiction  in  a  case  where  a 
State  may  be  plaintiff,  or  where  two  States  may  be  the  litigant  parlies. 
If  the  case  pending  between  two  Slates  in  one  of  the  inferior  tribu- 
nals, say  a  Circuit  Court,  should  be  one  arising  under  the  laws,  con- 
stitution, or  treaties  of  the  Union — to  deny  the  power  of  appeal  in 
such  case  to  the  Supreme  Court,  because  it  had  original  jurisdiction 
of  the  matter,  would  be  to  decide  that  the  Supreme  Court  had  not 
appellate  jurisdiction  in  all  such  cases;  whereas,  in  all  such  cases. 


202  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

that  jurisdiction  has  been  expressly  conferred  upon  it.  The  true 
interpretation  of  the  Constitution  appears  to  be,  that  aUhough  in 
cases  in  which  original  jurisdiction  has  been  granted  to  the  Supreme 
Court,  parties  may  resort  in  the  first  instance  to  that  court,  they  are 
not  compelled  to  do  so;  nor  is  the  court  divested  of  its  appellate  juris- 
diction, should  they  initiate  proceedings  in  an  inferior  tribunal  com- 
petent to  entertain  them.  From  this  it  will  be  obvious  that  there  are 
two  principles  which  regulate  the  jurisdiction  of  the  court — the  nature 
of  the  case,  and  the  nature  of  the  parties.  Thus,  whatever  may  be 
the  nature  of  the  case,  although  it  should  arise,  for  instance,  under 
the  laws  or  treaties  of  the  Union,  whenever  a  State  is  a  party,  with 
the  exception  provided  for  in  the  amendment  alluded  to,  the  court  is 
clothed  with  original  jurisdiction,  of  which  the  parties  may  avail 
themselves  if  they  please.  And  again,  whatever  may  be  the  nature 
of  the  parties,  if  they  do  not  avail  themselves  of  the  original  jurisdic- 
tion of  the  court  when  it  is  in  their  power  to  do  so,  and  the  case  is 
one  in  which  the  court  is  invested  with  appellate  power,  there  seems 
to  be  but  little  reason  why  the  nature  of  the  parties  should,  in  such 
case,  operate  to  divest  it  of  that  appellate  power. 

This  question  is  closely  identified  with  another,  which  has  like- 
wise given  rise  to  considerable  discussion.  Some  have  contended  for 
the  exclusive  character  of  the  original  jurisdiction  conferred  upon  the 
Supreme  Court;  whilst  others  have  insisted  that  the  inferior  courts 
may  be  invested  with  concurrent  jurisdiction  in  all  cases  in  which 
that  of  the  Supreme  Court  is  made  original.  On  this  point  there 
seems,  as  yet,  to  have  been  no  authoritative  ruling,  although  the 
weight  of  opinion  is  in  favour  of  the  view,  that  it  is  quite  competent 
for  Congress  to  vest,  in  such  cases,  a  concurrent  jurisdiction  in  the 
inferior  courts.  There  are  some  cases  also  in  which  the  appellate 
power  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  Slates  extends  to  the  re- 
vision of  the  judgments  of  the  State  courts.  But  more  of  this  when 
the  State  courts  are  adverted  to. 

Congress,  in  execution  of  the  powers  conferred  upon  it  in  reference 
to  inferior  tribunals,  proceeded  immediately  to  the  erection  of  such 
tribunals  all  over  the  country.  And  here  let  me  observe,  that  these 
tribunals  must  not  be  confounded  with  the  State  courts,  Avith  which 
they  are  co-existent.  In  some  respects  they  may  be  regarded  as  a 
mere  amplification  of  the  Supreme  Court,  for  the  more  prompt  and 
edicient  administration  of  justice;  whilst  in  oUiers,  such  as  the  nature 
of  tlieir  powers,  they  very  materially  differ  from  it.  But  they  are 
essentially  federal  in  all  their  ramifications,  having,  like  the  Supreme 
Court,  cognizance  only  of  such  matters  as  involve  considerations  in 
which  all  the  States  are  equally  interested.  The  whole  country  is 
first  divided  into  circuits,  each  having  its  circuit  court;  and  each  cir- 
cuit then  subdivided  into  districts,  each  of  which  has  its  district  court. 
Each  circuit  may  comprise  a  State,  or  several  States;  each  district,  a 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 


203 


State  or  a  fraction  of  a  State.  The  jiulges  of  the  Supreme  Court 
are  the  circuit  judges,  each  judge  having  his  own  fixed  circuit.  The 
judges  of  the  district  courts  are  local  and  subordinate  functionaries, 
each  resident  within  his  own  district.  The  federal  government  has 
also  throughout  the  country  its  own  justices  of  the  peace,  and  in  every 
district  a  district  attorney,  subordinate  to  the  federal  Attorney-general, 
and  whose  duty  it  is  to  watch  over  its  interests,  and  to  prosecute  or 
defend  in  its  name,  and  a  ministerial  officer  to  execute  its  process, 
known  as  the  marshal  of  the  district.  The  federal  courts  compose 
a  system,  the  parts  of  which  are  in  regular  subordination — an  appeal 
lying  from  the  district  courts  to  the  circuit  court  of  the  circuit  in  which 
they  lie,  and  from  the  circuit  courts  to  the  Supreme  Court  of  the 
United  States. 

The  inferior  courts  can  of  course  exercise  no  jurisdiction,  even 
with  the  sanction  of  Congress,  beyond  the  circle  of  the  judicial  powers 
vested  by  the  Constitution  in  the  United  States.  But  although  that 
document  has  specified  the  character  of  the  jurisdiction  which  the 
Supreme  Court  is  to  assume  in  the  different  cases  within  that  circle, 
it  has  left  that  of  the  powers  and  authority  of  the  inferior  courts, 
as  well  as  their  creation  and  organization,  to  the  discretion  of  Con- 
gress. The  United  States  are  invested  with  a  certain  amount  of  judi- 
cial authority.  With  the  exception  of  creating  the  Supreme  Court, 
and  declaring  in  wiiat  cases  its  jurisdiction  is  to  be  original,  and  in 
what  only  appellate,  the  Constitution  leaves  to  the  United  States  the 
power  to  devise  the  mode  in  which  the  whole  of  their  judicial  autho- 
rity shall  be  exercised,  and  the  machinery  by  which  it  is  to  be  kept 
in  operation.  Thus  it  is  equally  silent  upon  the  powers  of  the  in- 
ferior courts,  with  the  exception  of  the  limitation  placed  upon  the 
judicial  powers  of  the  Union,  as  it  is  upon  their  precise  number  and 
character.  The  distribution  of  the  powers  of  the  Supreme  Court  by 
the  Constitution,  was  no  rule  for  Congress  in  the  distribution  of  juris- 
diction amongst  the  inferior  tribunals.  It  was,  for  instance,  not  pre- 
vented from  conferring  upon  the  inferior  courts  original,  when  the 
Supreme  Court  had  only  appellate,  jurisdiction.  Nor  was  it  pre- 
vented, although  some  have  contended  otherwise,  from  conferring 
concurrent  jurisdiction  on  the  inferior  courts  in  cases  in  which  original 
jurisdiction  had  been  invested  in  the  Supreme  Court;  or  from  giving 
them,  each  in  their  order,  appellate  jurisdiction  over  courts  immedi- 
ately inferior  to  them,  in  all  cases  in  which  the  Supreme  Court  was 
intrusted  with  a  similar  jurisdiction.  With  the  exception  of  the 
distribution  made  by  the  Constitution,  Congress  was  left  at  liberty  to 
distribute  the  judicial  powers  as  it  pleased.  Original  jurisdicdon  in 
one  tribunal  or  another,  or  in  several  sharing  it  in  allotted  proportions, 
should  be  co-extensive  with  the  judicial  power.  As  the  original 
jurisdiction  of  the  Supreme  Court  was  limited  to  a  mere  fraction  of 
the  judicial   power,  unless  Congress  had   been  authorized  to  vest 


204  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

original  jurisdiction  in  the  tribunals  of  its  own  creation,  ro  the  full 
extent  of  its  judicial  authority,  that  authority,  except  so  far  as  the 
Supreme  Court  had  original  jurisdiction,  would  be  a  mere  nullity. 
The  circuit  and  district  courts  of  the  United  States  were,  therefore, 
constituted  courts  of  original  jurisdiction,  to  the  full  extent  of  the 
judicial  power  of  the  United  States;  unless  the  opinion  of  some,  that 
they  cannot  lawfully  exercise  such  jurisdiction  in  cases  in  which  that 
of  the  Supreme  Court  is  original  as  well  as  appellate,  be  the  correct 
one.  The  district  courts  are  courts  of  admiralty,  both  in  civil  and 
criminal  cases,  and  both  as  instance  and  as  prize  courts. 

In  every  well-regulated  government  the  judicial  is  necessarily  co- 
extensive with  the  legislative  power.  Unless  a  government  has  the 
power  of  administering  its  laws  to  the  extent  to  which  it  can  make 
them,  its  legislative  functions  are  a  mockery,  so  far  as  they  are  not 
sustained  by  judicial  authority.  If  the  American  system  furnishes 
us  with  any  exception  to  this  indispensable  condition  to  a  well-ba- 
lanced government,  it  is  not  by  the  judicial  power  falling  short  of  the 
legislative,  but  by  its  apparently  transcending  it.  Not  only  in  the 
federal  system,  but  in  that  of  the  different  States,  is  the  legislature  in 
some  cases  in  seeming  subordination  to  the  supreme  judicial  tribunal. 
But  it  is  only  seeming.  Within  the  pale  of  their  respective  powers, 
the  o-eneral  and  State  ojovernments  are  uncontrolled,  and  the  courts 
are  compellable  to  administer  their  enactments.  But  beyond  the  pale 
of  their  powers  they  are  checked  in  the  exercise  of  legislative  autho- 
rity by  the  terms  and  by  the  spirit  of  the  several  Constitutions.  It 
is  as  the  interpreter  and  guardian  of  the  Constitution,  therefore,  that 
the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States  may  be  called  upon  to  annul 
an  act  of  Congress.  The  Constitution  is  the  supreme  and  funda- 
mental law,  which  all,  the  legislature  included,  are  bound  to  obey; 
and  it  is  when  any  act  of  the  legislature  in  thi^  opinion  of  the  Supreme 
Court  violates  this,  the  fundamental  law  of  the  land,  that  that  Court 
sustains  the  fundamental  law,  in  opposition  to  the  unconstitutional  act, 
and  thereby  renders  the  latter  a  nullity.  In  all  this  it  will  be  seen  that 
the  judicial  power  confines  itself  strictly  to  its  own  proper  functions, 
without  arrogating  to  itself  any  legislative  prerogatives.  It  is  bound 
to  sustain  the  Constitution  against  all  innovators;  and  when  a  statute 
is  at  variance  with  the  Constitution,  the  statute  must  fall,  for  the 
Court  has  no  alternative  but  to  give  effect  to  the  Constitution.  In 
controlling  the  legislative  power,  therefore,  it  is  only  vindicating 
the  supreme  law.  In  the  same  way  the  Court  is  bound  to  sustain, 
against  all  invaders,  the  treaties  of  the  Union. 

No  matter  how  unconstitutional  an  act  of  Congress  may  be,  the 
Court  cannot  of  itself  initiate  proceedings  to  lay  it  aside.  It  must 
wait  until  a  case  is  brought  before  it  involving  the  legality  of  the  act, 
ere  it  can  arrest  its  operation.  A  law  may  be  notoriously  unconsti- 
tutional, but  the  Supreme  Court  has  nothing  to  do  with  it  until  the 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  205 

t 

rjuestion  involved  in  it  is  judicially  raised.  When  that  is  done,  the 
Supreme  Court  has  power  to  declare  it  repugnant  to  the  Constitution, 
and  to  refuse  to  give  it  effect;  whereupon  it  becomes  a  dead  letter, 
there  being  no  appeal  from  the  decision  of  the  Supreme  Court  on  any- 
constitutional  or  other  question. 

There  aie  cases,  too,  in  which  this  transcendent  power  extends  to 
the  acts  of  the  different  State  legislatures.  This  branch  of  the  judicial 
authority  arises  from  the  very  necessity  of  the  case;  for  in  a  political 
system  like  that  of  the  United  States,  the  terms  and  spirit  of  the 
Federal  Constitution  are  as  liable  to  be  violated  by  a  State  as  by  the 
federal  legislature.  In  all  such  cases,  the  integrity  of  the  Constitution 
could  obviously  be  only  safely  intrusted  to  the  guardianship  of  the 
Supreme  Federal  Court.  Thus,  the  Constitution  prohibits  any  State 
from  passing  a  law  impairing  the  obligation  of  contracts.  Should  any 
State  pass  a  law  violating  this  clause,  on  its  being  brought  before  the 
Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States,  in  the  regular  course  of  judicial 
proceedings,  the  law  would  be  set  aside  as  repugnant  to  the  Consti- 
tution. Perhaps  the  most  notable  case  in  which  this  power  has  been 
exercised  as  regards  a  State,  was  one  in  which  a  law  of  the  State  of 
New  Hampshire  was  annulled  as  violating  the  clause  in  question. 
But  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States  can  only  exercise  this 
power  when  the  State  law  infringes  the  Constitution  of  the  United 
States.  We  shall  presently  see  to  whom  the  power  of  annulling 
its  acts  is  intrusted,  when  a  State  legislature  infringes  the  State  Con- 
stitution. 

Such  is  a  general  view  of  the  powers  and  organization  of  the  Fe- 
deral judiciary.  Let  us  now  glance  briefly  at  the  judicial  system  as 
it  relates  to  the  several  States. 

With  the  exception  of  the  State  of  Louisiana,  the  common  law  of 
England  is  the  basis  of  the  jurisprudence  of  all  the  States  of  the 
Union.  The  common  law  is  coeval  in  America  with  our  colonial 
dominion.  Long  before  the  Revolution,  it  had  of  course  undergone 
many  statutory  moditicalions,  to  render  it  more  conformable  in  some 
points  to  the  circumstances  and  wants  of  the  colonies.  The  Revolu- 
tion produced  but  little  change  in  the  jurisprudence  of  the  continent, 
the  system  remaining  in  all  essential  parts  the  same — the  alterations 
which  ensued  being  chiefly  confined  to  the  machinery  by  which  jus- 
lice  was  administered.  The  common  law,  therefore,  remains  to  this 
day,  with  the  exception  alluded  to,  at  the  foundation  of  the  American 
juridical  system.  The  alterations  which  have  been  effected  in  it 
since  the  period  of  independence,  are  perhaps  not  greater  than  the 
changes  which  have  been  engrafted  upon  it  at  home  during  the  last 
seventy  years.  The  civil  law  is  the  basis  of  the  jurisprudence  of 
Louisiana,  which,  until  1803,  when  it  was  purchased  by  the  United 
States,  was  a  colony  of  France.  In  the  Stales  in  which  the  common 
law  prevails,  the  decisions  of  English  Courts  of  justice,  down  to  the 
VOL.  I. — 18 


206  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

separation  of  the  colonies  from  the  mother  country,  are  authorities  in 
the  American  courts.  Since  that  period  the  decisions  of  the  different 
State  courts  are  the  only  authorities  cited  in  their  respective  States, 
English  decisions  down  to  the  present  day,  although  they  hare  no 
absolute  autliority,  still  carry  great  weight  with  them.  It  would  only 
require  the  addition  of  their  own  reports,  and  of  a  few  American  text- 
books, to  make  the  library  of  an  English  lawyer  complete  for  all  the 
purposes  of  an  American  practitioner. 

Like  their  political  systems,  the  principle  which  is  at  the  basis  of 
the  jurisprudence  of  the  different  States  is  the  same;  it  is  the  machi- 
nery for  its  administration  that  is  diversified.  To  enter  into  any 
details  concerning  the  judiciary  of  each  State  would  be  as  uncalled 
for  as  it  would  be  tedious.  My  object  is  to  show  the  bearing  of  the 
State  and  Federal  systems  upon  each  other,  which  will  be  sufficiently 
answered  by  a  rapid  sketch  of  the  provisions  made  for  the  adminis- 
tration of  justice  in  any  one  State — say  New  York. 

In  the  State  of  New  York,  the  judicial  power  is  as  ample  as  the 
State  Constitution,  and  the  State  legislature  acting  within  the  limits  of 
the  Constitution,  have  made  or  may  make  it,  with  a  reservation  in 
favour  of  the  powers  exclusively  conceded  to  the  Federal  tribunals. 
It  is  co-extensive  with  the  legislative  authority  of  the  State,  and  with 
the  common  law,  except  so  far  as  it  has  been  modified  by  State 
legislation. 

In  civil  questions,  arising  between  citizen  and  citizen,  or  in  matters 
which  involve  the  criminal  law  of  the  State,  the  State  courts  alone 
have  jurisdiction;  the  federal  courts  having  no  greater  share  of  con- 
current or  appellate  jurisdiction  in  these  cases,  than  have  those  of  a 
foreign  country.     Each  State,  in  the  exercise  of  its  sovereignty,  ad- 
ministers justice  for  itself,  except  in  cases  affecting  the  United  States, 
the  cognizance  of  which  has   been  expressly  conceded  to  the  courts 
of  the  Union.     In  addition  toother  instances,  in  which  an  appeal  lies 
from  the  decision  of  the  highest  State  tribunal  to  the  Federal  courts, 
these  courts  are  permitted  to  exercise  the  same  supervisory  control 
in  cases  pending  before  a  State  court,  in  which  any  of  the  laws  of  the 
Union  are  incidentally  brought  in  question,  and  the  decision  of  the 
court  is  against  the  law  or  laws  so  involved.     But  in  all  other  cases 
the  two  jurisdictions  are,  in  their  respective  spheres,  as  separate  from 
and  independent  of  each  other,  as  the  political  system  of  the  State  is 
independent  in  its  own  sphere  of  that  of  the  United  States.     Thus, 
when  M'Leod  was  arrested,  it  was  by  the  authorities  of  the  State  of 
New  York  that  he  was  brought  to  trial  before  the  supreme  court  of 
the  State  at  Utica;  the  courts  of  the  United  States  having  nothing  to 
do  with  the  case,  his  imputed  crime,  murder,  being  a  violation  of  the 
law  of  the  State,  not  of  the  United  States.     But,  on  the  other  hand, 
when  M'Kenzie,  the  Canadian  rebel,  was  tried  for  levying  war  within 
the  territory  of  the  United  States  against  a  power  with  which  they 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  207 

were  nt  amity,  his  trial  took  place  before  the  Jislricl  court  of  the 
United  Stales,  silling  at  Canandaigua,  in  the  State  of  New  York; 
his  crime  being  a  violation  of  the  laws,  not  of  the  State,  but  of  the 
Uniled  States.  These  instances  serve  to  show  the  basis  on  which 
the  two  jurisdictions  rest,  and  to  designate  the  line  which  separates 
them. 

The  State  of  New  York  had,  until  very  lately,  when,  on  the  revision 
of  the  Constitution,  the  Court  of  Chancery  was  abolished,  two  sets 
of  tribunals,  one  having  an  equitable,  and  the  other  a  common-law 
jurisdiction.  In  Pennsylvania  the  two  jurisdictions  have  long  been 
blended  in  one  set  of  courts,  the  common-law  tribunals  having  an 
equity  side.  New  York,  in  following  her  example,  has  got  rid  of  a 
court  which  has  long  been  an  ornament  to  her  jurisprudence,  and 
over  which  some  of  the  ablest  of  her  jurists  have  presided.  As  the 
change  has  as  yet  been  but  a  year  or  so  in  operation,  it  is  impossible 
to  say  definitely  with  what  result  it  has  been  attended.  'J'he  Court 
of  Chancery,  whilst  it  existed,  was  presided  over  by  a  Chancellor, 
assisted  by  eight  Vice-chancellors,  there  being  one  in  each  of  the 
eight  judicial  subdivisions  of  the  State. 

The  highest  common-law  court  having  original  as  well  as  appellate 
jurisdiction,  is  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  State.  In  many  points  its 
position  and  powers  are  analogous  to  those  of  the  Court  of  Queen's 
Bench  in  this  country ;  in  others,  the  two  tribunals  are  very  dissimilar. 
At  one  time  its  sittings  were  chiefly  held  in  Albany,  the  capital  of 
the  State;  but  it  is  now  peripatetic — its  four  terms,  viz.,  January, 
May,  July,  and  October  terms,  being  held  respectively  in  Alban)^ 
in  New  York,  in  Utica  in  the  centre,  and  in  Rochester  in  the  western 
portion  of  the  State.  It  sits  to  adjudicate  upon  appeals  and  matters 
of  law,  but  a  trial  at  bar  may  be  had  before  it,  on  proper  cause  shown, 
as  in  this  country. 

Like  the  analogous  court  in  the  federal  system,  the  Supreme  court 
of  the  State  is  the  guardian  and  interpreter  of  the  Constitution  of  the 
State,  as  it  has  the  power  of  virtually  annulling,  by  defending  the 
Constitution  from  invasion,  any  act  of  the  legislature  which  it  may 
regard  as  unconstitutional.  This  feature  of  the  judicial  system  runs 
through  the  whole  polity  of  America,  both  state  and  federal.  It  was 
necessary  to  interpose  some  power  between  the  legislature  and  the 
Constitution;  for  had  the  legislature  been  the  sole  interpreter  of  the 
Constitution,  it  is  evident  that  the  latter  would  have  been  only  what 
the  former  chose  at  any  time  to  make  it.  But  here  the  analogy 
between  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  Slates  and  the  Supreme 
court  of  the  State  ends,  'jlie  original  jurisdiction  of  the  latter  is 
almost  co-extensive  with  the  judicial  power,  whilst  it  is  unlike  the 
former  in  this  also,  that  it  is  only  in  constitutional  questions  that  it  is 
a  court  of  final  appeal;  in  all  other  cases  its  decisions  may  be  carried 
by  writ  of  error  to  the  Court  of  Errors,  or  rather,  as  it  is  oflTicially 


208  THE  WESTERN  V.ORLD. 

Styled,  the  Court  for  the  Correction  of  Errors,  composed  of  the  Senate 
of  the  State. ^  Tlie  Senate  is  strictly  a  court  of  appeal,  with  the 
single  exception  of  cases  of  impeachment,  of  which  it  lias  exclusive 
jurisdiction. 

For  the  trial  of  issues  of  fact,  Circuit  courts  have  been  established 
throughout  the  State,  which  is  divided  for  this  purpose  into  eight 
circuits,  corresponding  with  its  eight  senatorial  districts.  To  each 
circuit  is  appointed  a  local  judge  called  the  circuit  judge,  who  holds 
his  court  for  the  trial  of  all  issues  of  fact,  and  of  criminals,  although 
their  alleged  crimes  may  be  of  the  highest  penal  description,  twice  a 
year,  in  each  county  comprised  within  his  district.  The  circuit 
judge,  before  the  abolition  of  the  Court  of  Chancery,  was  also  the 
vice-chancellor  of  his  circuit;  but  in  some  of  the  circuits,  such  as  the 
eighth,  or  that  comprising  the  western  portion  of  the  State,  the 
amount  of  business,  both  of  an  equity  and  common-law  cast,  at  length 
became  so  large  as  to  require  a  division  of  the  duties,  and  the  appoint- 
ment of  a  separate  vice-chancellor.  All  cases  pending  in  the  Circuit 
courts  are  supposed  to  originate,  as  with  us,  at  Nisi  Prius — in  bank, 
that  is  to  say,  in  the  Supreme  court,  by  whose  authority,  appearing 
on  the  record,  they  are  sent  down  for  trial,  and  to  which  they  are 
returned  after  verdict  for  judgment.  All  points  of  law  arising  during 
the  trial  from  the  decision  of  the  circuit  judge  on  which  either  of  the 
parties  may  choose  to  appeal,  are  transferred  to  the  Supreme  court 
for  argument  and  adjudication.  So  a  demurrer  may,  as  with  us,  take 
the  case  entirely  out  of  the  Circuit  court,  and  transfer  its  decision  to 
the  Court  in  bank.  In  short,  the  relation  between  the  tw^o  courts  is 
in  almost  all  points  the  same  as  that  subsisting  between  the  courts  at 
Westminister  and  those  of  Nisi  Prius  in  this  country. 

Subordinate  to  the  Circuit  courts  in  power  and  position,  though 
without  any  very  direct  relationship  between  them,  are  the  County 
courts.  Tliese  courts,  of  which  there  is  one  in  each  county,  whikt 
they  have  appellate  jurisdiction  over  tribunals  inferior  to  themselves, 
have  also,  to  a  certain  extent,  both  in  civil  and  criminal  cases,  a  con- 
current original  jurisdiction  with  the  Supreme  court;  for  the  Circuit 
courts  may  be  regarded  as  mere  amplifications  of  the  Supreme  court 
for  the  trial  of  issues  of  fact.  'J'he  County  court  has  cognizance 
only  of  such  matters  as,  being  otherwise  within  its  jurisdiction, 
arise  within  the  limits  of  the  county.  It  formerly  consisted  of 
five  judges,  one  of  whom  was  styled  First  Judge,  whose  duration 
of  olhce  was  five  years,  and  whose  appointment  lay  with  the 
Governor  and  Senate  of  the  State.  As  it  was  not  necessary  to 
be  a  lawyer  to  be  a  county  judge,  the  decisions  of  the  County  cou'ts 
were  frequently  very  wide  of  the  legal  mark;  nor  did  they  attach  to 
themselves  that  respect  and  contidencu  whicii,  under  a  diiiierent  regu- 

*  A  distinct  Court  of  Appeal  has  since  been  created. 


I 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  209 

lation,  they  might  have  inspired.  I  have  known  instances  in  which 
all  the  five  judges  were  farmers — not  a  single  professional  man  heing 
on  the  bench.  The  consequence  was,  that  most  suitors,  when  their 
cases  were  important,  preferred  resorting  to  the  Supre.me  court; 
when,  had  the  County  bench  been  properly  constituted,  justice  miwht 
have  been  administered  to  them  much  more  cheaply  and  more 
speedily  than  by  the  superior  tribunal.  I  have  frequently  heard 
bitter  complaints  made  of  this  radical  defect  in  a  court  which  had 
cognizance,  concurrently  with  the  Supreme  court,  of  civil  cases,  in- 
volvin":  property  to  a  large  amount;  and  of  all  criminal  cases,  which 
were  not  capital  in  their  nature,  or  punishable  with  imprisonment  for 
life  in  either  of  (he  State's  prisons  of  Auburn  or  Sing  Sing.  Appeals 
lie  to  the  County  court  from  the  decisions  of  the  different  justices  of 
the  peace  throughout  the  county,  and  from  those  of  the  civic  tribunals, 
which  may  be  erected  for  the  local  administration  of  justice,  in  such 
towns  as  may  lie  within  its  jurisdiction. 

The  Slate,  like  the  United  Slates,  has  not  only  a  chief  law  officer 
in  its  Attorney-general,  but  it  has  also  in  each  county  its  district 
attorney,  whose  duty  it  is  to  institute  an  inquiry  into  all  offences 
committed  within  the  county,  and  to  follow  up  such  inquiry  with  a 
prosecution  of  the  offenders,  when  necessary.  Sometimes  this  duty, 
both  as  regards  the  Slate  and  the  United  Slates,  is  vested  in  one  and 
the  same  person.  There  are  also  coroners  appointed  for  each  county, 
with  duties  analogous  to  those  of  the  coroner  in  this  country,  both  as 
to  investigating  into  the  causes  of  fatal  accidents,  and  the  service  of 
process  when  the  sheriff  is  party  to  a  suit.  Each  county  has  also 
its  sheriff,  who  nominates  his  subordinate  functionaries,  but  who  is 
himself  elected  to  his  post  every  two  years,  if  I  mistake  not,  by  the- 
people  of  the  countv.  The  county  clerk  is  also  an  elective  officer, 
who  has  charge  of  the  county  office,  which,  although  having  but  little 
to  do  with  the  judicial  system  of  the  State,  is  nevertheless  so  import- 
ant a  feature  in  its  general  polity,  that  I  cannot  here  avoid  aliudinor 
to  it.  The  county  office  is  not  only  the  place  where  copies  of  all 
process  in  cases  pending  in  the  County  court  are  filed,  but  it  is  also 
part  and  parcel  of  the  general  registry  system,  which  prevails  through- 
out the  Stale.  In  New  York,  all  transactions  concerning  land,  to  be 
valid  and  binding  upon  future  parties  claiming  an  interest,  must  be 
registered  in  the  county  office  of  the  county  in  which  this  land  is 
situated.  The  result  of  this  general  system  of  registration  is,  that  no 
more  obscurity  hangs  over  transactions  in  real,  than  in  personal  pro- 
perty— the  books  being  open  for  the  inspection  of  all,  on  the  payment 
of  a  small  fee — so  that  the  state  of  any  landed  property  can  be  at  once 
ascertained,  as  regards  the  true  ownership  of,  and  the  liens  and  en- 
cumbrances which  may  be  upon,  it.  In  a  country  where  land  is  a 
commodity  as  marketable  as  any  personalty,  claims  to  it,  but  for  this 
system,  would  become   inextricably  entangled,  whilst  the  ease  and 

18* 


210  THE  WESTERN   WORLD.       . 

advantage  with  whiili  it  works  recommend  it  to  more  general 
adoption  amongst  ourselves.  The  whole  system  of  conveyancing 
too  is  exceedingly  simple,  fee  simples  and  leaseholds  being  almost 
the  only  species  of  tenures  existing  in  the  State. 

The 'bar  of  New  York  is,  in   the  main,  exceedingly  respectable. 
Proof  of  competency,  by  examination,  after   a  probation   of  seven 
years  in  an  attorney's  office,  is  necessary  to  admittance  as  an  attor- 
ney of  the  Supreme  court.     A  certain  scholastic  career,  previously 
to  its  commencement,  may  curtail  this  long  probationary  term  to  three 
years.     After  practising  for  two  years  in  the  inferior  capacity,  the 
attorney,  on  satisfactorily  passing  another  examination,  is  admitted 
to  the   degree  of  counsellor,  equivalent  to  that  of  barrister  with  us. 
All  branches  of  the  profession  are  united  in  America  in  one  and  tlie 
same   person — the   counsellor   being  his  own   attorney  and   special 
pleader,  an  arrano^ement  which  obtains  in  our  own  provinces  as  well 
as  in  the  United  States.     The  practitioner  of  one  Stale  cannot  prac- 
tise in  another,  without  regular  admittance  to  the  courts  of  that  oUier 
State.     The  terms  upon  which  admittance  is  given  in  these  cases  vary 
in  the  different  States.     To  become  a  member  of  the  bar  in  Massa- 
chusetts, no    regular  course  of  study  whatever  is    required:    from 
which,  however,  it  does  not  follow  that  no  knowledge  of  the  law  is 
requisite — admission   being  only  had   on   passing  a  pretty  rigorous 
examination.     It  is  no  matter  where  or  how  the  necessary  knowledge 
is  acquired,  if  it  is  possessed.     The  simple  proof  of  qualificaiion  is  all 
that  is  demanded,  no  questions  being  asked  as  to  the  antecedents  r  f 
the  applicant.     Nor  can  the  practitioner  of  any  State,  even  thoui^h 
he  should  have  been  admitted  to  practise  in  every  State,  plead  in  the 
Supreme  court  of  the  United  States,  without  express  admission  to 
its  bar. 

Such  is  a  very  cursory  sketch  of  the  machinery  adopted  for  the 
administration  of  justice  in  the  Slate  of  New  York.  I  have  not 
selected  that  State  because  T  think  that  its  judicial  system  is  better 
than  that  of  any  other,  or  because  I  wished  very  particularly  to  ac- 
quaint the  reader  with  its  precise  scope  and  character,  but  because 
some  such  selection  was  necessary  in  order  to  illustrate  the  distinct 
and  independent  systems  which  enter  into  the  juridical  polity  of  the 
Republic.  It  will  be  seen  that  the  line  of  demarkation  separating  the 
two  great  departments  of  the  judiciary  system  is  coincident,  or  nearly 
so,  with  that  which  intervenes  between  the  two  grand  primary  sub- 
divisions of  the  civil  polity  of  the  nation — the  United  States  both 
legislating  and  administering  justice  in  matters  alTecting  the  entire 
confederation,  whilst  each  State  reserves  to  itself  all  the  judicial  and 
legislative  attributes  of  sovereignty  in  matters  purely  alTecting  its  own 
welfare  and  internal  management.  In  cases  involving  the  interests 
of  the  whole  Republic,  the  States  have  abdicated  their  sovereign 
functions  ;  in  those  which  simply  affect  themselves,  they  admit  of  no 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 


211 


control,  either  from  one  another  or  from  all  combined.  In  the  one 
case,  they  are  as  if  they  had  no  separate  existence;  in  the  other,  they 
are  as  independent  as  if  they  were  fettered  by  no  federal  obligations. 


CHAPTER    XV. 


PARTY,  PARTY-SPIRIT,  ORGANIZATION,  AND  TACTICS. 

Party  inseparable  from  Popular  Governments. — Difficulty  at  first  experienced 
of  comprehending  the  scope  or  drift  of  American  Party. — Apparent  Confu- 
sion, and  its  cause. — Zeal  which  characterizes  American  Party. — Progress- 
ive Career  of  the   American  Politician. — The  different  Political  Arenas 
in  the  Union.— The  Township.— The  County.— The  State,  and  the  United 
States. — Politics  do  not  interfere  with  Business  in  America. — Party  Allegi- 
ance.— Political  influence  of  Young  Men  in  America.— Intelligence  of  the 
American  Partisan.— Violence  of  Party-spirit  on  the  eve  of  an  Election. — 
Peaceable  manner  in  which  Elections  are  conducted. — Division  of  the  Poll- 
ing Districts.— Relative  Position  of  parties  with  regard  to  the  Questions 
at  issue.— Difficulty  at  first  of  ascertaining  them.— Party  systematized. 
Local,  subordinate  to  National  Party.— Primary  Division  of  Party.— The 
Whigs.— The  Democrats.— Their    Principles    and   Characteristics.— The 
difl'erent  States,  the   Battle-fields  of  National,  as  well  as  Local  Party.— 
Parties,  as  connected  with  the  Commercial  Question. — Party  Names  and 
Nick-names.— Organization  and  Tactics  of  Party.— Difficulty  sometimes 
experienced  in  controlling  it.— Party  Excitements  in  the  Capital. — Differ- 
ent Manifestations  of  Party  Organization. — Party,  in  its  national  aspect. — 
Its   Machinery.- Mode  of  action   during  an  Electoral  Campaign.— Party 
Conventions.— TheDictatorial  Attitude  which  they  have  recently  assumed. — 
Tyranny  of  Party.—"  Compromise  Presidents."- Party  Organization  in 
the  State,  the  County,  and  the  Township.— Extraordinary  Demonstrations 
of  Party.— Candidates  must  be  nominated,  to  have  any  chance  of  Success.— 
Conclusion. 

To  those  unaccustomed  to  look  below  the  surface  of  things,  it 
may  appear  singular  that,  in  a  country  where  the  people  have  it  all 
their  own  way,  such  a  thing  as  party,  in  its  less  favourable  sense, 
should  be  found  to  exist,  or  that  violent  party  feeling  should  be  per- 
mitted to  disturb  the  relations  of  civil  life.  If  government  is  ever 
really,  as  it  is  in  all  cases  professedly,  wielded  for  the  good  of  the 
masses,  one  would,  at  first  siglit,  naturally  suppose    that   in   the 


212  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

United  States,  where  the  masses  liave  all  tlie  departments  of 
the  jorovernment  in  their  own  hands,  that  object,  and  that  alone, 
would  be  pursued,  and  that  the  multitude  in  quest  of  its  own 
good,  would  be  led  by  its  own  instinct  in  the  right  path.  Nor 
would  this  be  altogether  a  groundless  supposition,  were  people  as 
wise  as  they  might,  or  as  patriotic  as  they  should  be.  But  repub- 
licanism, even  in  its  most  undiluted  sense,  is  no  cure  for  human 
folly,  nor  is  the  most  ultra-democracy  a  sovereign  remedy  for  the 
selti'shness  of  man.  Ignorance  finds  its  readv  instruments  for  mis- 
chief,  even  in  the  best  of  institutions ;  and  self-interest  is  ever 
active  in  deranging  the  practical  working  of  what  may  be  theoreti- 
cally the  best  adjusted  political  machine. 

So  far  from  the  great  modern  republic  being  the  scene  of  politi- 
cal harmony  and  unanimity,  it  is  the  most  violent  batde-field  of 
party  that  the  world  has  ever  seen.  Men  are  not  only  led  by  con- 
flicting interests  into  antagonist  positions,  but  there,  as  elsewhere, 
they  are  found  taking  the  most  opposite  views  of  matters  purely 
affecting  the  public  weal,  And  what  gives  to  party,  perha[)S,  a 
more  violent  aspect  in  the  United  States  than  it  assumes  in  any 
other  country,  is  that  every  man  is,  more  or  less,  an  active  party 
man,  enticed  into  the  political  arena  not  only  by  the  excitements 
incident  to  the  scene,  but  also  by  the  apparent  ease  with  which  his 
direct  connexion  with  the  machine  of  government  \vill  enable  him 
to  subserve  his  own  interests  and  prosecute  his  own  purposes. 
He  feels  that,  if  he  manages  well,  he  can  do  himself,  for  himself,  what, 
in  most  other  countries,  it  requires  the  aid  of  the  great  and  influential 
to  secure.  Generally  speaking,  there  are  no  intermediate  influences 
between  him  and  his  object,  the  good  offices  of  which  he  must  pur- 
chase with  a  price,  be  it  in  money,  in  abject  subserviency,  or  by 
any  compromise  of  his  independence.  The  door  is  open  to  him, 
which  he  can  enter  without  another's  introduction,  and  once  within 
which,  he  can  play  his  own  game  in  his  own  way.  With  these 
facilities  and  inducements,  the  difficulty  appears  to  be  to  avoid  be- 
coming a  partisan.  The  republic  is  one  universal  party  field,  and 
the  number  of  politicians  keeps  pace  with  the  census. 

It  is  extremely  difficult  for  a  European,  for  some  time  at  least,  to 
comprehend  the  drift  or  the  spirit  of  party  in  the  United  States. 
Before  him  is  one  widespread  field  of  political  activity,  where  op- 
posing forces  encounter  each  other  in  singular  combination  and 
constant  evolution;  but  it  is  only  after  long  and  patient  observation, 
that  he  can  discern  the  views  and  principles  which  conjure  into 
being  the  moral  plinntasmagoria  of  wliich  he  is  a  puzzled  witness. 
He  is  like  a  man  looking,  for  the  first  time,  at  a  great  and  compli- 
cated machine,  with  its  cranks  and  wheels  and  cylinders  moving  in 
all  directions  and  at  every  conceivable  angle;  and  who,  from  the 
intricacy  of  its  mechanism  and  the  complexity  of  its  movement,  is 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  213 

for  some  time  at  a  loss  to  discover  the  elemenlary  power  from 
which  proceeds  the  harmonious  activity,  which  transfuses  the  inge- 
nious arrangement  of  inert  matter  before  him.  Confused  as  the 
poHtical  drama  in  America  at  first  appears  to  be,  it  is  not  without 
its  method,  its  plot,  or  its  cast.  The  chief  difficulty  in  the  way 
of  its  analysis  lies  in  this,  that  the  main  story  is  generally  over- 
charged with  underplot;  which  instead  of  illustrating  and  aiding, 
only  serves  to  obscure  and  mystify  it.  It  is  after  a  close  and  care- 
ful observation  of  its  more  imposing  movements,  as  well  as  of  its 
constant  and  flickering  evolutions,  that  the  stranger  becomes  ap- 
prized of  its  sources,  its  objects,  and  its  tendencies,  and  discovers 
party  in  America  to  be  a  great  moral  banian-tree,  with  one  princi- 
pal, and  a  multitude  of  minor  roots. 

One  great  source  of  confusion  to  the  uninitiated  looker-on  is 
found  in  the  many  divisions  and  subdivisions  into  which  parties 
resolve  themselves  in  the  United  States.  Even  on  questions  of 
general  policy  they  are  not  always  found  with  the  same  dividing 
line  between  them ;  whilst  they  split  into  sections,  and  fragments 
of  sections,  on  matters  of  local  and  minor  importance.  Parties 
are  frequently  found  batding  furiously  with  each  other,  in  the  arena 
of  domestic  politics,  \vho  are  ready,  on  a  moment's  notice,  to  com- 
bine against  a  common  enemy  on  a  question  involving  the  general 
interests  of  the  confederation.  One  wonders  how,  in  the  never- 
ceasing  melee,  party  allegiance  is  at  all  preserved.  But,  notwith- 
standing the  apparent  confusion,  the  discipline  is  very  perfect,  as 
will  hereafter  be  shown.  It  matters  not  that  both  of  the  great  par- 
ties may  be  rent  to  pieces  on  minor  points;  their  different  parts 
exhibit  a  wonderfully  cohesive  power  when  the  struggle  is  one 
which  involves,  in  the  remotest  degree,  supremacy  in  the  councils 
of  the  Union.  Domestic  quarrels  are  forgotten,  or  put  in  abeyance, 
until  the  common  cause  is  either  vindicated  or  lost.  Nay,  some- 
times a  species  of  double  warfare  is  going  on,  men  fighting  side  by 
side  on  some  questions,  who  are,  at  the  same  time,  inveterately 
opposing  each  other  on  others;  resorting  to  the  same  ballot-box  in 
one  case,  but  dividing  their  votes  in  another. 

But  whatever  may  be  the  question  on  the  political  tapis,  whether  it 
be  one  simply  involving  the  merits  of  difierent  candidates,  or  a  point 
of  national  policy  ;  whether  it  have  relation  to  the  domestic  manage- 
ment of  a  township,  or  to  the  foreign  relations  of  the  Union;  there 
never  seems  to  be  the  slightest  abatement  of  the  virulence  which 
distinguishes  the  incessant  strife  of  party.  In  the  old  world,  where 
party-struggles,  generally  speaking,  turn  upon  great  principles, 
where  the  fight  is  between  old  systems  and  new,  and  mighty  moral 
forces  are  in  the  field  disputing  for  the  issue,  it  is  no  wonder  that 
great  passions  are  evoked,  or  that  the  spirit  and  enthusiasm  of  the 
multitudes  should  sometimes  rise  to  a  pitch  which  is  grand  whilst 


214  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

it  is  terrible,  dnnfj^erous  whilst  it  is  sublime.  But  nothino-  can  he 
more  ludicrous  than  the  contrast,  which  is  not  unfrcquently  exhi- 
bited, between  the  stereotyped  zeal  of  the  American  politician  and 
the  petty  objects  on  which  it  is  expended.  The  grand  principles 
for  which  the  people  elsewhere  are  still  fighting,  and  which  give 
to  political  warfare  its  more  dignified  and  imposing  forms,  have  all 
been  conceded  to  him,  and  the  greatest  range  which  his  political 
vision  can  now  take  is  confined  to  practical  questions  of  domestic 
bearing.  In  the  part  which  he  takes  in  reference  to  these,  he  exhi- 
bits the  same  energy  that  is  elsewhere  displayed  in  the  contest 
for  principles  of  universal  application.  In  his  township,  in  his 
county,  in  his  State,  and  in  his  more  important  capacity  as  a  citizen 
of  the  United  States,  he  is  the  same  active  and  impetuous  politi- 
cian, seeming  to  know  but  little  diflerence  between  one  question 
and  another,  so  far  as  the  gauging  of  his  zeal,  in  respect  to  them, 
is  concerned.  It  is  not  to  be  doubted  but  that  the  contests  in  which 
he  is  sometimes  called  upon  to  act  his  part  are,  in  their  results,  of 
the  greatest  national  importance,  when  the  excitement  which  per- 
vades the  country  is  not  altogether  disproportioned  to  the  magnitude 
of  the  issue:  but  the  eagerness  and  virulence  with  which  the  pet- 
tiest points  are  battled  for,  is  more  the  result  of  the  constant  politi- 
cal skirmishing  which  is  going  on,  than  of  the  importance  which 
is  attached  to  them.  To  the  commercial  man,  business  occasion- 
ally brings  its  "slack  time;"  to  the  farmer  the  mutations  of  season 
now  and  then  offer  repose;  but  to  the  American  in  his  political 
capacity,  there  is  no  rest.  From  one  end  of  the  year  to  the  otlier, 
his  attention  in  this  respect  is  never  permitted  to  flag:  he  is  con- 
stantly oppressed  with  the  multitudinous  duties  of  sovereignty ;  and, 
as  he  shares  the  popular  diadem  with  his  neighbours,  he  is  brouo-lu 
into  daily  concert  or  collision  with  them,  as  the  case  may  be,  until, 
at  length,  political  strategy  becomes  a  habit  of  his  life. 

In  all  countries  Mammon  has  his  worshippers,  of  whose  sincerity 
there  can  be  no  question.  But,  as  tliere  is  no  other  country  in  the 
world  where  wealth  gives  such  ready  distinction  to  its  possessors, 
or  where  fortunes  can  be  so  successfully  scrambled  for,  there  is  per- 
haps none  in  which  it  is  so  eagerly  coveted  as  in  America.  But  it 
is  not  the  only  thing  that  gives  distinction — official  position  placing 
its  occupant  side  by  side  with  the  man  of  wealth.  In  the  United 
States,  particularly  in  the  Northern  States,  the  wealthy  classes  are 
generally  confined  to  the  towns;  the  system  by  which  land  is  par- 
celled out  and  held,  preventinor  the  growth  of  a  rural  aristocracy.  It 
is  seldom,  therefore,  that  wealth  is  tbund  concentrated  in  one  hand 
in  the  rural  districts.  The  consequence  is  that,  to  the  great  bulk 
of  the  farmers,  this  avenue  to  social  distinction  is  closed.  Not  so, 
however,  with  political  offices.  These,  particularly  such  as  are  of 
a  local  character,  they  retain  almost  exclusively  in  their  own  hands. 


\ 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  215 

The  first  field  for  the  country  politician  is  the  township,  whicli  has 
its  own  school  districts  and  its  school  commissioners;   its  road  and 
bridjre  commissioners;  its  justices  of  tlie  peace,  <fcc. ;  which  offices 
atford  the  only  source  of  social  distinction  in  the  localities  in  whicii 
thev  are  held.     They  are  all  elective;  and  if  a  man  does  not  care 
for  taking  the  field  for  his  own  purposes,  he  is  dragged  into  the  little 
contests  which  ensue  at  the  solicitation  of  his  more  ambitious  neigh- 
bours.    Having  once  taken  his  place  in  the  political  arena  of  iiis 
township,  he  can  never  afterwards  recede, — liis  vote  in  the  balance 
of  parties  being  seldom  to  be  dispensed  with.     Once  a  township 
politician,  his  views  generally  expand,  so  as  to  embrace  a  wider 
field,  and  the  one  next  in  order — his  county.     He  may  in  some 
instances  be  very  unwilling  to  venture  on  the  larger  stage,  but,  in 
nine  cases  out  of  ten,  the  exigencies  of  his  party  throughout  the 
county  force  him  upon  it.     Besides,  to  the  majority,  the  county 
olfices  are  a  more  tempting  bait  than  those  of  the  township;  and 
such  of  the  county  politicians  as  are  not  contending  for  them  on 
their  own  account,  seek  to  confer  them  on  their  personal  or  political 
friends.     In  some  of  the  States,  such  as  New  York,  the  county 
offices  are  of  a  legislative,  as  well  as  a  ministerial  or  executive  cha- 
racter; each  county  in  that  State  having  its  Board  of  Supervisors, 
who  constitute  a  little  parliament,  which  legislates  in  its  capital  on 
all  matters  connected  with  the  finances,  the  roads  and  bridges,  the 
schools,  <fec.  of  the  county.     Like  the  township  ofl[ices,  those  of  the 
county  are,  generally  speaking,  in  the  hands  of  the  agricultural  class. 
It  is  not  the  fate  of  the  county  politician,  even  when  he  is  desirous 
of  so  doing,  to  confine  himself  to  his  county.     Once  upon  that  plat- 
form, his  horizon  expands  until  it  embraces  his  State.     He  may  be 
one  of  the  few  who  care  little  for  State  honours  and  dignities  himself, 
but  his  party  cannot  afford  to  have  him  indifferent,  and  he  is  dragged 
into  the  vortex  of  State  politics.     Here,  for  the  first  time,  he  finds 
his  own  class  in  serious  competition  with  the  other  classes  of  the 
community.    The  lawyer  and  the  merchant  may  not  unfrequently  be 
found  in  the  ranks  of  the  county  officials,  but  in  the  scramble  for  the 
offices  of  the  State,  the  farmer  has  generally  to  take  his  chance  with 
them.     The  bulk  of  the  legislative  bodies  are  usually  farmers,  but 
the  majority  of  inffuential  and  leading  men  in  them  belong  to  the 
other  classes.     The  agricultural  politician  is  by  no  means  debarred 
from  State  preferment,  but  the  loaves  and  fishes  of  the  more  extended 
arena  are  not  so  exclusively  his   perquisites  as  are  those  of  the 
township  and  the  county.     Even  when  he  confines  his  own  personal 
views  to  his  county,  the  instances  are  very  rare  in  whicli  he  con- 
fines his  political  exertions  to  county  questions.     By  the  time  he 
has  become  the  perfect  county  politician,  he  is  too  tlioroughly  im- 
bued with  the  political  spirit  to  refrain  from  taking  his  part  in  all 
the  political  contests  of  the  State,  whilst  the  more  enterprising  and 


216  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

ambitious  only  make  the  county  the  spring-board,  from  which  they 
bound  in  due  time  into  a  wider  and  a  more  enticing  field.  Once 
thoroughly  embarked  in  State  politics,  their  next  ambition  is  to  take 
their  part  in  national  affairs,  and  to  appear  upon  the  platiorm  of  the 
Union. 

This  is  the  great  aim  and  object  of  the  aspiring  politician,  to  at- 
tain which  he  makes  use  of  all  the  minor  stages  only  as  so  many 
steps  in  his  progress.  A  man  never  becomes  known  to  the  nation 
as  a  politician,  until  he  transcends  the  political  bounds  of  his  State. 
He  may  be  a  leading  man  in  New  York  or  Ohio,  for  instance,  but 
unless  he  happens  to  have  been  long  a  Governor  of  his  State,  or  to 
have  largely  identified  his  name  in  his  own  locality  with  some  ques- 
tion of  great  national  import,  it  is  only  by  his  debut  at  Washington 
that  he  becomes  known  to  the  rest  of  the  confederacy.  Thus  it  is 
that  men,  who  are  very  great  men  at  home,  find  themselves  fre- 
quently utterly  unknown,  even  in  the  neighbouring  State,  and  par- 
ticularly so  on  their  first  appearance  in  the  federal  capital.  Such 
as  cannot  secure  a  footing  on  the  federal  stage,  or  care  not  for  get- 
ting it,  enter  more  disinterestedly,  but  in  most  cases  quite  as  eagerly, 
into  the  contest  as  their  more  successful  or  ambitious  fellows;  the 
township,  county  and  state  discipline  having  made  every  man  not 
only  a  politician,  but  a  warm  and  even  violent  partisan. 

With  so  many  spheres  of  action  before  him  in  regular  gradation, 
and  with  so  many  calls  as  a  political  integer  upon  his  attention,  one 
might,  at  first,  think  that  politics  must  be  the  sole  business  of  life 
in  America.  It  is  really  surprising,  considering  the  amount  of  time 
which  is  annually  devoted  to  politics,  that  the  ordinary  afiairs  of 
life  are  at  all  attended  to.  Nobody  ever  thinks  of  accusing  the 
American  farmer  of  being  foi^etful  of  his  plough,  or  the  merchant 
of  being  negligent  in  the  transaction  of  his  business,  from  over-atten- 
tion to  the  affairs  of  State.  With  the  most  unremitting  devotion  to 
politics,  they  combine  the  greatest  industrial  activity.  This  is  very 
much  owing  to  their  party  discipline.  The  greatest  inroad  upon 
time,  especially  upon  that  of  the  farmers,  is  occasioned  by  their 
personal  attendance  at  elections;  but  these,  numerous  as  they  are, 
have  been  so  arranged  as  to  the  period  of  their  occurrence,  as  to 
occasion  the  least  possible  loss  in  this  respect.  The  rest  is  ma- 
naged by  a  system  of  political  organization,  which  enables  the  man 
of  business,  be  he  farmer,  merchant,  or  mechanic,  to  attend  to  his 
business  without  relaxing  his  hold  upon  his  party,  or  diminishing 
the  influence  which  he  may  conceive  himself  entitled  to  exercise 
over  it. 

The  American  party-man  may  be  the  follower,  but  he  is  never 
the  blind  follower  of  a  leader.  In  a  country  which  is  one  great 
industrial  and  political  hive,  and  where  every  man  is  a  politician, 
no  matter  wliat  may  be  his  station  in  life,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  217 

at  that  some  should  be  met  sublimely  ignorant  of  what  they  are 
contending  for.  But,  taking  the  great  mass  of  American  politicians, 
their  party  predilections  are  less  the  result  of  accident  than  of  in- 
quiry; their  party  loyalty  does  not  spring  from  a  blind  but  from  an 
intelligent  allegiance.  In  countries  where  education  is  less  univer- 
sally ditfused  than  it  is  in  the  United  States,  parties  consist  of  a  few 
leaders,  and  a  great  body  of  unintelligent  followers.  Even  in  our 
Own  country,  how  very  few  of  the  multitude  really  think  for  them- 
selves! The  American,  on  the  other  hand,  is  from  his  earliest  boy- 
hood inured  to  politics  and  disciplined  in  political  discussion.  The 
young  blood  of  America  exercises  an  immense  influence  over  its 
destiny.  Perhaps  it  would  be  better  were  this  otherwise.  Fre- 
quendy  are  elections  carried,  in  different  localities,  by  the  influence 
exercised  upon  the  voters  by  the  active  exertions  of  young  men, 
who  have,  as  yet,  no  vote  themselves.  Majority  is  one  of  the  con- 
ditions to  possessing  a  vote;  but  a  minor  may,  and  often  does,  make 
exciting  party  speeches  to  an  assembly  composed  of  men,  many 
of  whom  miirht  individually  be  his  grandfather.  Nor  is  this  regard- 
ed  as  in  any  degree  out  of  the  ordinary  course  of  nature,  the  more 
elderly  politicians  being  rather  pleased  than  otherwise  at  the  pre- 
cocity of  those  Avho  are  about  to  supersede  them  ere  they  become 
their  successors.  The  consequence  of  this  is,  that  the  party-man 
in  America  is  almost  always  able  to  define  his  position,  to  point  out 
the  precise  line  of  demarkation  between  himself  and  his  opponents, 
and  to  sustain  his  own  side  of  the  quesdon  by  argument,  which  may 
be  fallacious,  but  which  is  nevertheless  ingenious  and  intelligent. 
Enter,  for  instance,  in  the  evening,  an  unpretending  farm-house,  and 
it  is  a  chance  if,  after  the  labour  of  the  day,  you  do  not  see  the  occu- 
pant in  his  homespun  gray,  reading  his  newspaper  by  the  fire-side; 
for  both  he  and  his  family  can  invariably  read,  and  he  thinks  that 
the  least  he  can  do  for  his  party  is  to  sustain  the  local  party  news- 
paper, many  receiving,  in  addiuon  to  this,  their  daily  metropolitan 
paper.  In  conversing  with  him,  you  will  generally  tind,  if  you 
leave  him  to  himself,  that,  as  a  duck  takes  to  water,  so  does  he  very 
soon  take  to  politics.  The  markets  and  a  few  odier  topics  may  re- 
ceive a  passing  attention,  but  the  grand  theme  is  politics;  and  you 
will  be  surprised  by  the  ease  and  readiness  with  which  he  speaks 
upon  the  most  intricate  national  questions.  For  the  last  fifteen  years, 
no  question  has  occupied  so  large  a  share  of  the  public  attention  as 
that  of  the  "  Sub-treasury,"  the  dispute  on  which  turned  on  the  best 
mode,  not  only  for  the  collecdon,  but  also  for  the  safe  keeping  and 
disbursement  of  the  public  revenue,  involving,  at  the  same  time,  the 
whole  quesdon  of  a  metallic  and  a  mixed  currency.  With  the  ])ros 
and  cons  on  this,  as  on  all  other  political  topics,  I  found  the  farmers, 
in  the  remotest  districts,  not  all  equally,  but  all  tolerably  conver- 
sant, each  man  being  able  to  assign  an  intelligent  reason  for  the 
VOL.  I. — 19 


218  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

side  which  he  took,  and  the  vote  which  he  gave.  Nor  are  their 
minds  biassed  by  viewing  a  subject  only  on  one  side,  the  newspa- 
pers of  one  party  frequently  agreeing  to  publish  speeches  and  dis- 
sertations opposed  to  their  own  views,  provided  those  of  the  other 
will  do  the  same  with  regard  to  them.  Thus  a  county  newspaper, 
in  the  Democratic  interest,  will  publish  Mr.  Webster's  speech  in  full 
on  a  particular  subject,  if  the  Whig  and  opposition  organ  will  do  the 
same  with  Mr.  Benton's  on  the  same  subject;  an  arrangement  by 
which  their  readers  are  enabled  to  consider,  at  their  leisure,  both 
sides  of  a  question.  The  party-man,  whose  mind  is  thus  schooled 
and  disciplined,  is  seldom  the  man  to  be  bought  or  bribed.  That 
bribery  is  practised  in  the  United  States  is  too  true;  but  it  is  on  very 
different  material,  as  will  be  immediately  shown,  that  it  successfully 
operates.  It  may  be  that  party  is  more  easily  managed  when  each 
man  thinks  less  for  himself,  and  becomes  more  readily  the  mere 
instrument  of  others ;  and  that,  so  constituted,  it  may  serve  all  the 
purposes  of  mixed  governments;  but  in  a  country  like  America, 
where  the  safety  of  the  State  rests  with  the  intelligence  of  the  masses, 
they  did  well  for  their  fellow-countrymen  who  first  laid  the  founda- 
tion of  that  universal  system  of  education,  which  enables  the  Ame- 
rican of  the  present  day  to  combine  in  himself  the  apparently  incom- 
patible characters  of  a  violent,  and  yet  a  reasoning  politician. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that,  when  the  very  atmosphere  is  infected 
with  it,  the  American  ladies  escape  the  contagion  of  politics.  But 
whilst  they  are  quite  ready  to  discuss  questions  which  have  but  Httle 
to  do  with  their  own  appropriate  sphere,  an  active  female  politician 
is  a  phenomenon  of  rare  occurrence  in  the  United  States.  They 
freely  vindicate  their  prerogatives  of  speech ;  but  it  is  seldom  that  a 
Georgiana,  of  Devonshire,  is  comprised  in  their  ranks. 

To  appreciate  the  violence  of  party  spirit  in  America,  it  must  be 
witnessed  on  the  eve  of  an  election.  From  the  rabid  manner  in 
which  the  newspapers  then  attack  each  other,  and  all  those  who  are 
opposed  to  them;  from  the  speeches  uttered  at  public  meetings,  and 
the  determination  evinced  by  both  parties  to  achieve  a  victory,  the 
inexperienced  stranger  imagines  that  the  country  is  certainly  on  the 
eve  of  a  catastrophe.  It  is  with  rather  unpleasant  misgivings  that 
he  opens  his  eyes  on  the  critical  day  of  election,  during  which, 
judging  from  the  premonitory  symptoms,  he  makes  up  his  mind 
that"^not  a  throat  will  be  left  uncut — not  a  bone  unbroken.  But  to 
his  surprise  the  whole  evaporates  in  smoke,  the  poll  proceeding  in 
the  quietest  possible  manner;  and  a  President  of  the  United  States, 
or  a  Governor  of  a  State,  or  some  other  officer,  is  peaceably  made 
or  unmade,  by  men  who  can  look  one  another  very  kindly  in  the 
face,  after  having,  but  yesterday,  said  such  hard  things  of  each  other. 
Tlie  mode  in  which  tlie  elections  are  conducted  has  been  devised 
chiefly  with  a  view  to  the  saving  of  time,  and  the  preservation  of 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  219 

tnp  piihlic  peace.  An  election  is  generally  over  in  one  day,  no  mat- 
ter how  many  offices,  federal,  state,  or  county,  have  to  be  filled  by 
it.  Both  towns  and  counties  are  divided  into  districts,  each  district 
having  its  own  poll,  and  being  so  small  that  but  a  fraation  of  the 
electoral  body  votes  in  it.  Being  thus  separated  from  each  other, 
but  a  few  hundred  voters  meeting  at  each  polling  place,  the  numbers 
assembled  together  never  become  formidable,  and  the  election  is 
over  before  they  can  unite  and  get  up  any  dangerous  excitement. 
There  are  no  hustings  at  which  nominations  take  place  and  speeches 
are  delivered,  so  prolific  of  excitement  and  tumult  in  this  country, 
during  an  electoral  contest.  The  nominations  are  made,  and  the 
speeches  are  delivered  elsewhere ;  nothing  occurs  at  the  poll,  from 
its  opening  to  its  close,  but  the  depositing  of  votes  in  the  ballot- 
boxes.  Perhaps  in  the  whole  electoral  history  of  America  a  more 
exciting  time  was  never  witnessed  than  that  which  immediately  pre- 
ceded the  elevation  of  General  Harrison  to  the  presidency.  Through- 
out the  Union,  upwards  of  two  millions  of  votes  w^ere  polled  on 
that  occasion,  more  than  double  the  number  ever  polled  in  the 
United  Kingdom,  and  nearly  ten  times  the  number  of  the  whole 
electoral  body  of  France  under  the  Orleans  dynasty ;  and  yet  not  a 
life  was  lost  at  that  election,  whilst  scarcely  a  drop  of  blood  was 
drawn.  Fatal  affrays  sometimes  take  place,  but  they  are  rare  con- 
sidering how  numerous  are  the  occasions  on  which  they  might  arise, 
and  are  invariably  confined  to  the  large  towns,  where  it  is  not  al- 
ways easy  to  keep  the  dregs  of  the  rabble  in  subjection. 

When  one  gradually,  by  the  study  of  American  politics,  brings 
himself  into  the  position  of  an  American  partisan,  he  is  not  only 
able  to  distinguish  the  lines  which  separate  political  questions  from 
each  other,  but  also  to  appreciate  the  relations  which  the  different 
parties  respectively  bear  to  the  various  points  at  issue.  When  one 
enters  a  large  factory,  unprepared  for  what  he  is  to  witness,  it  is  not 
easy,  amid  the  buzz  and  whirl  of  the  machinery,  to  understand,  in 
the  first  place,  what  is  being  done,  and  in  the  next,  the  mode  in 
which  it  is  effected.  It  is  precisely  so  with  the  Maelstrom  of  Ame- 
rican party — it  is  one  thing  to  understand  party  questions,  quite 
another  to  comprehend  the  relations  of  the  difl^erent  parties  towards 
them — for  parties  so  separate  and  unite,  that  it  is  difficult  to  distinguish 
permanent  from  occasional  opponents.  Generally  speaking,  there 
is  but  little  in  their  names  which  can  serve  as  an  index  for  the 
stranger  to  their  political  principles.  It  is  all  very  well  to  understand 
the  points  at  issue,  but  who,  having  gone  no  further  than  this,  can 
tell  what  it  is  that  Democrats,  Democratic  Republicans,  Loco-focos, 
NuUifiers,  Seceders,  Federalists,  Whigs,  and  a  variety  of  other 
parties,  are  driving  at?  Some  of  these  appellations,  it  is  true,  are 
suggestive  of  the  principles  which  are  contended  for  under  them, 
but  it  is  not  so  with  all  the  party  names  in  the  United  States.     Some 


220  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

of  them  are  the  names  assumed  by  parties  themselves,  and  had 
originally  a  meaning,  \vliich,if  not  since  lost,  has  at  all  events  become 
obscure  ;  whilst  others  are  mere  nicknames  invented  for  them  by 
their  opponents,  as  the  Tories  in  this  country  have  been  in  the 
habit  of  designating  all  as  Radicals,  who  have  stood  out  for  reform 
and  national  progress.  Nor  does  the  designation  of  newspapers 
always  alTord  a  clue  to  the  principles  which  they  advocate.  It  is 
not  rare  to  find  the  "  Democrat"  of  a  particular  place  the  foe  of 
democratic,  and  the  organ  of  whig  principles ;  or  a  long-established 
paper  called  the  "Whig,"  doing  battle  in  its  neighbourhood,  in  the 
cause  of  the  most  undiluted  Jeffersonian  democracy.  There  is  thus 
a  great  difficulty, — from  the  multitude  of  points  which  arise,  of  a 
general  and  local  character,  and  the  multitude  of  parties  which  contend 
for  them,  under  their  diflerent  banners  and  designations, — in  ascer- 
taining, after  the  points  in  dispute  are  mastered,  who  they  are  pre- 
cisely that  are  in  favour  of,  and  w  ho  against,  a  particular  one.  The 
only  way  to  solve  the  problem  satisfactorily,  is  to  sift  both  questions 
and  parties  carefully,  distinguishing  between  such  as  are  of  a  general, 
and  such  as  are  of  a  purely  local  character.  This  once  done,  it  is 
no  difficult  matter  afterwards  to  scramble  through  the  political  laby- 
rinth. Chaotic  as  party  in  the  United  States  at  first  sight  appears 
to  be,  it  resolves  itself  into  a  regular  system,  easily  comprehended, 
when  the  spectator  selects  the  proper  point  of  view^ 

The  only  satisfactory  position  to  occupy  in  taking  the  survey  is 
the  federal  platform,  from  which  parties,  in  all  their  ramifose  relations 
to  each  other,  are  to  be  seen  at  a  glance.  The  whole  then  appears 
to  be  composed  of  one  general  system,  with  a  number  of  petty 
systems  in  active  revolution  around  it.  Party  observes  the  same 
subordination,  in  the  arrangement  of  its  different  parts,  as  do  the 
political  institutions  of  the  country.  Party,  in  its  local  sense,  is 
wholly  subordinate  to  party  in  its  general  signification.  Each  of 
the  great  parties  takes  root  in  national  questions;  and  although  they 
may  ramify,  in  a  thousand  directions,  in  permeating  the  masses, 
they  all  tend  back  again  to  the  same  great  trunk,  when  any  national 
struggle  is  before  them.  It  is  a  mistake  to  believe  that  the  great 
party  warfare  of  America  is  of  a  sectional  character;  party  conflicts 
may  originate  in  sectional  difierences,  but  the  line  which  separates 
the  combatants  is  seldom  a  geographical  one.  The  interests  of  the 
east  may  not  always  be  compatible  with  those  of  the  west,  but  there 
are  no  eastern  and  western  parties,  separated  from  each  other  by  the 
Alleghenies.  The  policy  of  the  north  may  not  always  be  recon- 
cilable with  the  interests  of  the  south ;  but  there  are  no  northern  and 
southern  parties,  witii  Mason  and  Dixon's  line  as  their  point  of  sepa- 
ration. The  manuiacturers  of  the  north  find  some  of  their  stanchest 
supporters  in  the  representatives  of  die  south;  whilst  the  cotton- 
growers  of  the  south  are  powerfully  supported  by  large  numbers  of 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  221 

all  classes  of  politicians  in  the  north.  Even  the  question  of  Slavery 
itself  does  not  entirely  partake  of  the  sectional  character.  Tlie 
stronghold  of  slavery  is  the  south,  and  that  of  abolitionism  tlie 
north ;  but  the  friends  of  freedom  are  not  confined  to  the  one,  nor  are 
the  advocates  of  servitude  to  be  exclusively  found  in  the  other. 
Questions,  in  their  immediate  bearing,  may  be  chiefly  of  sectional 
or  geographical  importance;  but  the  parties  who  contest  them,  can 
seldom,  if  ever,  be  distinguished  by  their  geographical  position.  It 
is  quite  common,  for  instance,  to  find  men  warmly  contending  with 
each  other,  on  a  point  chiefly  interesting  to  the  south,  amid  the 
frozen  wastes  of  Maine  on  the  north-east,  or  in  the  far  north-west, 
amid  the  more  sunny  solitudes  of  Illinois. 

In  national  politics,  then,  we  find  the  great  and  primary  source  of 
American  party.  Welling  from  this  exhaustless  reservoir,  it  flows 
forth  in  two  mighty  streams,  which  become  broken  in  their  volume, 
and  intersect  each  other's  channels,  as  soon  as  they  transcend  the 
limited  bounds  of  the  federal  territory,  until,  at  length,  they  become 
so  divided  and  subdivided  in  the  distance  as  to  lose  their  distinctive- 
ness, except  to  the  observer  on  the  spot.  But  let  an  occasion  of 
periodic  reaction  arise,  and  as  the  veins  send  back  their  blood  by 
diff'erent  routes  to  the  heart,  so  do  all  these  distant  streamlets  return 
their  M^aters  into  the  main  channel,  to  concentrate  once  more  the 
volume  of  party  into  a  united  and  compact  mass,  so  as  to  act  with 
efl'ect  in  the  pending  contest.  Parties  primarily  divide  into  Whigs 
and  Democrats— in  whose  ranks  the  whole  community  is  compre- 
hended. Whatever  he  may  be  at  home,  in  his  state,  in  his  county, 
or  in  his  township,  with  regard  to  local  matters,  every  American 
belongs  to  one  or  the  other  of  the  national  parties,  and  is  either  a 
Whig  or  a  Democrat. 

The  origin  of  these  parties  has  been  already  alluded  to,  in  treat- 
ing of  the  political  aspect  of  the  Union.  They  partake  of  no  sectional 
characteristic;  both  being  transfused  throughout  the  entire  mass  of 
society,  and  each  meeting  the  other  in  the  face,  in  the  remotest 
sections  and  corner  of  the  republic.  The  great  point  which  they 
originally  contested,  was  that  of  State  rights  and  sovereignty,  in  op- 
position to  a  strong  and  consolidated  Central  Government.  They 
remain  opposed  to  each  other,  now  that  that  question  is  at  rest,  more 
from  habit  and  tradition,  than  from  any  permanent  diff'erence  now 
existing  between  them  in  views  and  policy.  Many  questions  arise, 
on  which  they  accidentally  take  sides,  and  which  become  party 
questions  by  their  ultimate  identification  with  them.  But  there  are 
others,  in  taking  a  position  on  which,  they  are  true  to  their  original 
character  and  hereditary  predilections.  The  Whigs  may  justly  be 
regarded  as  the  conservative,  the  Democrats  as  the  "go  a-head," 
party.  It  is  obvious,  therefore,  that  questions  which  may  appear 
desirable  and  highly  politic  to  the  Democrats,  may  savour  too  much 

19- 


222  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

of  radicalism  to  suit  the  palate   of  the  AVhigs.     By  the  latter  the 
moneyed  interest  of  the  Union  has  always  been  chicily  represented; 
and  tliey  were  impelled  by  instinct  to  the  support  of  the  National 
Bank,  when  it  was  first  assailed  by  President  Jackson,  and  after- 
wards by  the  whole  strength  of  the  Democratic  party,  when  the 
latter  successfully  fought  for  an  independent  national  treasury — as 
they  were,  indeed,  to  the  support  of  all  banks,  when,  with  the  in- 
dependent treasury  clamour,  was  combined  the  cry  for  a  metallic, 
in  substitution  of  a  mixed  currency.     And  so,  on  the  tariff  question, 
they  seek  to  maintain  the  interests  of  capital,  in  opposition  to  those 
of  labour,  particularly  of  agricultural  labour.     Into  this  course  self- 
interest  may  drive  the  Whigs  of  the  north-east;  but  the  conduct  of 
the  southern  Whigs  on  the  tariff  question  is  unaccountable,  except 
upon  the  ground  of  their  regarding  the  integrity  of  the  party  as  a 
paramount  consideration  to  the  interests  of  their  constituents.     The 
Whigs  too,  as  a  party,  are  more  sensitive  than  their  opponents  to 
public  opinion,  and  are  more  disposed  than  the  Democrats  to  regulate 
their  policy  by  what  the  world  may  be  likely  to  think  of  them  and 
their  country.     It  is  on  this  account  that  their  tone  towards  foreign 
nations  is  more  courteous  and  more  devoid  of  bluster  than  that 
usually  adopted  by  the  Democratic  party,  and  tliat  they  have  a  com- 
paratively strong  aversion  to  all  proceedings  of  a  violent  and  un- 
justifiable character,  like  those  which  superinduced  the  Mexican  war. 
The  Democrats,  on  the  other  hand,  are  more  reckless  in  their  policy; 
in  their  zeal  for  ultraism  in  every  thing,  taking  counsel  of  none 
but  themselves,  snapping  their  fingers  at  the  world  beyond,  whose 
opinions  they  care  as  little  for  as  they  do  for  its  feelings;  and  ready 
at  any  time  to  exalt  their  country,  although  it  should  be  at  the  ex- 
pense of  its  reputation.     The  Whigs  decidedly  represent  the  "gen- 
tlemanly interest," — the  Democrats  comprising   in  their  ranks  tlie 
greater  portion  of  the  rabble,  together  with  many  of  the  more  sturdy 
and  adventurous  spirits  of  the  republic.     Both  parties  are  exces- 
sively patriotic,  by  their  own  account,  in  all  they  do,  and  unbounded 
in  their  zeal  for  the  Constitution ;  but  which  of  them  has  been  guilty 
of  the  most  frequent  infractions  of  that  document,  it  would  be  difficult 
to  say  ;  altliough  I  am  inclined  to  regard  it  as  safer  in  the  hands  of 
the  Whigs  than  in  those  of  their  opponents — who*  are  not  always 
in  tlie  mood  of  permitting  constitutional  considerations  to  stand   be- 
tween tliem  and  the  furtherance  of  their  policy.     If  the  Constitution 
be  not  a  dead  letter,  the  conduct  of  the  present  administration,  in 
precipitating  the  catastrophe  of  the  Mexican  war,  tried  by  it  as  a 
test,  has  rendered  them,  from  the  President  downwards,  amenable 
to  impeachment;  and  yet  they  are  sustained,  in  all  that  they  have 
done,  by  the  whole  force  of  the  Democratic  party  througliout  the 
country. 

If  Whiggism  and  Democracy  constitute  the  two  primary  subdivi- 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  223 

sions  of  party  in  its  national  sense,  how  comes  it,  it  may  be  asked, 
that  we  hear  of  such  a  State  bein^  Whig,  or  Democratic,  as  the  case 
may  be?  This  is  apt  to  engender  confusion,  if  it  is  taken  to  mean 
that  Democracy,  or  Whiggism,  has  any  thing  directly  to  do  with  the 
peculiar  politics  of  any  State.  We  hear  of  the  different  States 
beiuff  Whiff,  or  Democratic,  because  it  is  in  them  that  all  national 
questions  are  battled  for.  The  Americans  are  never  found  all  acting 
together  in  their  electoral  capacity  on  any  subject.  The  only  in- 
stance in  which  they  have  done  so  as  a  whole  people,  perhaps,  was 
in  devising  and  adopting  the  Constitution.  In  the  House  of  Repre- 
sentatives they  act  as  a  whole  people  by  their  delegates;  but  in  no 
case  do  the  people  themselves,  in  the  exercise  of  their  rights,  directly 
act  as  one  people.  Is  a  President  of  the  United  States  to  be  chosen, 
for  instance  ?  Each  State  appoints  its  own  electoral  college,  whose 
business  it  is  to  elect  him;  nor  do  the  electors  tlius  chosen  by  any 
one  State  meet,  in  the  performance  of  their  duty,  with  the  electors 
appointed  by  another  State.  The  whole  thing,  so  far  as  the  State  is 
concerned,  is  done  within  the  limits  of  the  State,  the  electoral  college 
of  each  State  meeting  in  the  State  capital,  and  transmitting  the  result 
of  their  votes  to  the  United  States  Secretary  of  state  at  Washington. 
Are  vacancies  in  the  Senate  of  the  United  States  to  be  filled  up? 
They  are  supplied  by  the  legislatures  of  the  different  States,  who 
alone  can  appoint  their  senatorial  representatives.  This,  again, 
makes  the  national  a  State  question;  for  if  the  State  of  New  York, 
for  example,  is  desirous  of  returning  a  Whig  representative  to  the 
Senate  of  the  United  States,  it  must  first  provide  itself  with  a  domestic 
legislature  of  Whig  principles  on  national  questions,  or  it  loses  its 
opportunity.  Still  further,  again,  are  national  questions  carried 
down  into  the  State,  in  the  choice  of  delegates  to  the  House  of  Rep- 
resentatives. In  that  House,  as  already  seen,  there  is  one  member 
to  about  every  seventy  thousand  of  the  population,  throughout  the 
whole  Union.  Sometimes  one  county  of  a  State,  such  as  Monroe 
county.  New  York,  will  be  entided  from  its  population  to  a  member 
of  its  own.  In  other  cases,  when  population  is  sparse,  two  or  three 
counties  may  be  combined  to  form  an  electoral  district;  but  in  either 
case  the  vote  is  a  county  vote,  parties  in  each  county  recording  their 
votes  in  their  own  county,  and  managing  the  election  by  their  own 
county  organization. 

Thus  do  national  politics,  in  the  election  of  a  member  to  the  Lower 
House  in  the  federal  legislature,  necessarily  infuse  themselves  into 
the  party  evolutions  of  each  county  of  each  State.  Nay,  even  further, 
the  township  itself  does  not  escape  the  contagion;  for  in  voting  in 
this  case  by  counties,  each  voter  records  his  vote  in  his  own  township, 
and  thus  national  questions  become  the  turning  point  of  party,  even 
in  this,  perhaps,  the  minutest  of  municipal  subdivisions.  This  ar- 
rangement of  confining  popular  action  on  national  subjects  in  all  cases 


224  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

to  State  limits,  is  not  only  convenient  to  the  people,  but  conducive 
to  the  maintenance  of  the  public  peace.  At  the  time  of  a  general 
election,  the  attention  of  the  people  is  thereby  concentrated  upon 
many  ditTerent  points.  Each  man  finds  his  centre  of  action  in  his 
own  State,  and  instead  of  the  universal  excitement  which  prevails 
concentrating  upon  one  point,  which  would  be  extremely  hazardous 
with  a  government  so  thoroughly  popular,  its  force  is  broken  by  its 
beinor  turned  in  as  many  different  directions  as  there  are  States  in  the 
Union.  Each  State  thus  forms  part  and  parcel  of  an  elaborate  break- 
water, which  has  been  reared  to  protect  the  general  system  of  the 
republic  from  the  destruction  which  would  await  it,  were  the  ac- 
cumulated wave  of  popular  excitement  permitted  to  sweep  OA'er  it 
unbroken.  But  whilst  the  people  have  no  common  ground  on  which 
to  fifjht  the  battles  of  the  Union,  they  are  constantly  fighting  them 
at  home;  and  thus  it  is  that  the  great  national  parties  become  the 
primary  and  controlling  parties  in  each  of  the  States.  Party  lines, 
on  local  points,  are  not  always  coincident  with  that  which  separates 
the  national  parties,  but  they  are  generally  so.  Thus  the  people  of 
New  York,  or  Pennsylvania,  in  squabbling  amongst  themselves 
about  their  banks,  canals,  railways,  schools,  &c.,  frequently  forget 
that  they  are  Whigs  and  Democrats,  although  sometimes  the  reiol- 
lection  of  their  being  so  is  ever  prominent.  But  whether  forgetful 
for  the  moment  or  not,  they  readily  fall  back  into  their  ranks  when- 
ever the  national  tocsin  is  sounded,  or  when  a  question  of  mere 
State  import  arises  which  involves,  in  the  slightest  degree,  their  re- 
spective party  principles. 

To  pursue  the  subject  of  State  party  would  be  as  profitless  as  it 
would  be  tedious.  Its  objects  are  as  multifarious  as  are  the  wants 
of  a  continent,  and  its  name  is  Legion.  Besides,  questions  affecting 
any  one  State,  which  fail  to  interest  the  people  of  another,  could 
scarcely  be  very  palatable  to  the  distant  reader. 

The  next  phase  in  the  scale  of  importance,  which  party,  nationally 
speaking,  assumes,  is  that  which  is  influenced  by  purely  commercial 
considerations.  But  party  relations  having  in  this  respect  been  sufii- 
cicntly  considered  in  the  chapter  devoted  to  the  commercial  policy 
of  the  Union,  it  is  unnecessary  here  to  dwell  further  upon  them, 
allusion  beinc  now  only  made  to  them  from  their  obvious  connexion 
with  the  general  subject  of  party.  Before  dismissing  this  part  of  it, 
however,  it  may  be  as  well  to  observe  that,  on  the  great  question  of 
free  trade  and  protection,  parties  in  the  main  preserve  the  general 
division  to  which  attention  lias  just  been  drawn.  But  the  Whigs, 
as  a  ])arty,  have  been  longer  identified  with  protection  than  tlie  De- 
mocrats have  been  with  free  trade,  it  being  only  recently  thai  the 
latter  have  inscribed  commercial  freedom  upon  their  party  banners. 
The  Whigs  from  all  parts  of  the  Union  have  long  co-operated  in  the 
advocacy  of  a  high  tariff,  but  until  lately  many  of  the  Democrats  of 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  225 

the  north  and  west  kept  shy  of  the  cause  of  free  trade.  Even  vet  a 
portion  of  tlie  Democratic  party,  especially  the  Democrats  of  Penn- 
sylvania, abandon  their  ranks  to  join  the  Whigs  on  commercial 
questions;  whilst  a  few  straggling  Whigs  of  the  west  lean,  on  the 
same  questions,  towards  the  main  body  of  their  political  opponents. 
Although,  therefore,  the  issue  between  free  trade  and  protection  lias 
been  made  a  party  one,  sectional  interests,  in  contesting  it,  are,  iii 
some  instances,  too  strong  for  party  attachments. 

Perhaps  the  most  purely  sectional  party  in  the  country  is  that  of 
the  NuUihers,  whose  views  and  doctrines  have  been  already  inci- 
dentally remarked  upon.  Nullification,  as  a  principle,  is,  in  its  ad- 
vocacy, chiefly  contined  to  the  south,  and  only  comes  to  the  surface 
in  the  political  arena,  when  questions  are  agitated  directly  atTecting 
the  sectional  interests  of  the  Union.  Nullitiers,  as  Nullifiers,  know 
no  other  party  distinction,  whilst  their  opponents,  throughout  the 
whole  north  and  west,  comprise  party  men  of  all  shades  of  opinion. 

The  question  of  Slavery  gives  rise  to  still  another  division  in  the 
ranks  of  national  party;  but  as  I  intend  to  treat  of  that  subject  at 
large  in  a  future  chapter,  I  shall  reserve  for  the  present  what  is  to 
be  said  upon  it  in  this  connexion. 

In  concluding  this  branch  of  the  examination  into  American 
party,  it  may  not  be  amiss  here  to  remark,  for  the  sake  of  avoiding 
confusion,  that  "Democrats,"  and  "Democratic  Republicans,"  are 
names  assumed  by  the  Democratic  party,  "Loco-foco"  being  the 
nickname  attached  to  them  by  their  opponents;  whilst "  Federalists" 
is  a  term  of  reproach  given,  for  reasons  already  assigned,  by  the 
Democrats  to  their  antagonists,  who  only  recognise  for  themselves 
the  style  and  title  of  "W'higs." 

Of  the  tactics  of  party  in  America  very  little  need  be  said,  its  stra- 
tegy in  most  points  resembling  that  usually  resorted  to  in  other 
countries  with  governments  more  or  less  popularized.  The  most 
curious  tjpature  about  transatlantic  parties  is  the  eagerness  with 
which  they  w^atch  for  questions  \yhich  are  likely  to  become  popular, 
and  the  impetuous  scramble  which  takes  place  for  them  when  once 
discerned.  In  this  way  the  Democratic  party  lately  stole  a  march 
upon  their  opponents,  when  they  appropriated  the  Texas  and  Ore- 
gon questions  to  themselves.  It  is  not  always  that  they  are  over- 
scrupulous as, to  the  means  by  which  the  party  interests  are  sub- 
served. This  is  abundantly  proved  by  the  Log  (Jabin  agitation  of 
1840;  Avhen  log  cabins,  with  their  songs  and  speeches,  and  their 
"orgies  on  bacon  and  beans  and  hard  cider,  had  more  to  do  with  the 
election  of  General  Harrison  to  the  presidency,  than  had  less  ex- 
ceptionable means.  But  such  devices  are  harmless  as  compared 
with  others,  which  under  very  equivocal  names,  such  as  "  pipe 
laying,"  are  sometimes  resorted  to.  In  the  rural  districts  the  elec- 
toral body  may  be  bamboozled,  but  it  is  seldom  corrupted.     In  the 


226  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

laro;-cr  towns,  on  the  otlier  hand,  corruption  is  frequently  praetiscci 
by  all  parties.  To  the  position  of  the  Irish  in  the  commerieal 
cities,  and  the  political  intUience  which  they  obtain,  is  this  chiefly 
owing'. 

Notwithstanding  the  strength  of  party  feeling,  it  is  sometimes  ex- 
ceedingly diflicult  to  control  party  in  the  United  States.  So  many 
and  so  conflicting  are  the  interests  to  be  attended  to,  that  it  is  sel- 
dom that  either  party  finds  itself  without  some  wing  or  section  in 
rebellion  against  its  authority.  The  party  ranks  too  are  filled  with 
ambitious  spirits,  who  are  impatient  of  subordination,  and  whose 
relations  with  their  constituents  are  frequently  such  as  to  encourage 
them  in  their  waywardness.  Each  member  of  the  party,  again,  che- 
rishes a  feeling  of  independence,  which  often  leads  him  to  display 
an  intractable  disposition,  even  when  he  has  no  intention  of  avoid- 
ing subjection.  The  party  leaders  in  America  have  sensitive  ma- 
terials with  which  to  work,  in  their  management  of  which  they 
have  to  observe  the  utmost  circumspection.  But  let  any  great 
danger  threaten  the  interests  of  the  party,  let  the  common  enemy 
attempt  to  take  any  decided  advantage  of  the  anarchy  which  may 
prevail  in  it,  and  all  difl*erences  are  forgotten  in  a  trice;  insubordi- 
nation vanishes  and  discipline  reappears,  and  the  angry  sections 
once  more  unite  into  one  solid  and  compact  mass,  as  easily  swayed 
by  its  leaders  as  are  the  armies  of  the  Czar  by  the  generals  of  the 
empire. 

Violent  as  are  the  displays  of  party  feeling  in  all  the  political 
stages  of  the  country,  it  is  in  the  Federal  capital  that  the  excitement 
reaches  its  culminating  point.  On  this  account  it  is  perhaps  as  well 
for  the  interests  of  the  Republic  that  the  heart  of  its  political  system 
is  no  stronger  than  it  is;  for  were  the  party  excitements  of  the  capital 
sufficiently  powerful  to  keep  the  whole  body  politic  in  a  state  of 
chronic  fever,  there  would  be  but  little  hope  of  the  recovery  of  the 
patient.  But  the  political  pulsations  at  Washington  are  too  feeble 
to  alTect  the  extremities  of  the  country.  The  inflammatory  symp- 
toms which  may  have  afi'ected  the  members,  have  partially  subsided 
ere  the  heart  gets  into  its  state  of  periodic  spasm;  nor  do  these 
symptoms  reappear  in  any  intensity,  until  a  local  action  reproduces 
them.  Whilst  parties  are  rending  each  other  to  pieces  in  Washing- 
ton, the  distant  States  are  in  a  condition  of  comparative  quiescence, 
but  for  which  it  would  be  impossible  for  them  to  attend  to  the  ordi 
nary  concerns  of  life.  ^ 

I  shall  conclude  the  present  chapter  with  a  succinct  view  of  the 
organization  of  party  in  America.  Scattered  over  so  vast  a  surface, 
with  such  diflercnt  relations  to  sustain,  and  so  many  clashing  interests 
to  reconcile,  it  would  be  impossible  for  any  great  party  in  the  country 
to  act  Avith  eflfect,  unless  it  were  thoroughly  organized.  How  far 
party  organization  in  America  is  complete,  and  likely  to  answer  its 
purposes,  may  be  gathered  from  the  following  brief  sketch  of  it. 


\ 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  227 

Party  is  organized  with  a  view  to  the  difTcrent  circumstances  in 
which  it  may  be  called  upon  to  act.  It  has,  therefore,  its  national, 
its  state,  and  its  county  organization,  to  say  nothing  of  the  machinery 
by  which  its  minuter  evolutions  are  regulated.  An  outline  of  one 
of  these  will  suffice  to  convey  a  correct  idea  of  the  whole.  I  shall 
therefore  confine  myself  to  a  description  of  the  organization  of  party 
in  its  national  aspect. 

The  national  interests  of  party  are  primarily  under  the  superin- 
tendence aiKl  control  of  national  party  conventions.  These  are 
assemblies  of  delegates,  representing,  in  their  aggregate,  the  entire 
party  for  which  they  act  throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  the 
Republic.  They  are  the  creatures  neither  of  the  law  nor  of  the 
constitution,  being  the  mere  ofTspring  of  party,  begotten  for  party 
purposes  and  for  these  alone.  They  may  be  looked  upon,  in  fact, 
as  a  species  of  party  parliament,  each  party  having  in  addition  to  its 
legislative  also  an  efficient  executive  machinery.  This  latter  con- 
sists of  a  national  central  committee,  whose  duty  it  is  to  appoint  the 
time  and  place  for  the  meeting  of  the  convention,  whenever,  in  their 
opinion,  the  exigencies  of  the  party  may  require  its  convocation, — 
to  call  upon  the  party  throughout  the  country  to  elect  delegates  for 
the  same,  and  to  prescribe  their  number  and  the  mode  of  their  elec- 
tion. For  the  better  understanding  of  the  working  of  this  machinery, 
let  us  trace  its  action  during  an  electoral  campaign. 

The  election  for  President  takes  place  about  the  beginning  of  the 
month  of  November  once  in  every  four  years.  The  first  and  most 
important  movement  of  each  party  is  the  selection  of  a  candidate  for 
the  office.  Let  us  follow  the  operations  of  one  of  them,  and  take 
the  Democratic  party  as  the  example. 

The  campaign  actively  commences  about  seven  months  before 
the  time  of  election,  the  first  step  being  taken  by  the  Democratic 
national  central  committee,  which  calls,  by  proclamation,  upon  the 
Democratic  party  to  elect  delegates  to  meet  in  convention  on  such  a 
day  and  at  such  a  place,  for  the  purpose  of  nominating  the  candidate, 
whom  the  party  will  support  in  the  coming  contest.  These  delegates 
are  generally,  in  number,  the  same  as  the  aggregate  of  the  electoral 
colleges,  on  whom  the  election  of  the  President  ultimately  devolves 
— the  party  in  each  State  sending  as  many  delegates  to  the  conven- 
tion as  there  are  electors  in  the  electoral  college  of  the  State;  by 
which  means  the  representation  in  the  convention  is  pretty  equally 
distributed  amongst  the  States  according  to  the  ratio  of  their  popula- 
tion. The  month  of  May  is  generally  selected  as  the  time,  and 
some  central  town  or  city,  such  as  Harrisbiirg  in  Pennsylvania,  or 
Baltimore  in  Maryland,  as  the  place  of  meeting.  In  the  meantime, 
the  party  choose  their  delegates  in  the  mode  prescribed,  who  assem- 
ble on  the  appointed  day,  at  the  appointed  place,  from  all  parts  of 
the  nation.     Once  assembled,  they  remain  in  deliberation  until  the 


22R  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

great  object  of  their  meeting  is  accomplished;  that  object  is  to  deter- 
mine, not  who  is  the  fittest,  but  who  is  the  most  avaihible,  party- 
candidate  for  the  presidency.  The  party  is  represented  in  all  its 
phases  in  the  convention;  its  diversified  views  and  wishes  are 
brought  together  and  compared,  that  they  may  be,  as  nearly  as  pos- 
sible, reconciled:  the  strength,  attitude,  and  tactics  of  tlie  opposition 
are  taken  into  serious  consideration;  and  finally,  he  is  generally 
selected  as  the  candidate,  not  who  is  the  most  acceptable,  but  who 
happens  to  be  the  least  objectionable  to  all.  The  selection  is  made 
by  ballot;  sometimes  a  great  many  ballots  taking  place  before  a  final 
choice  is  arrived  at.  As  soon  as  the  nomination  is  made,  it  is  pro- 
mulgated to  the  party,  and,  unless  some  section  of  it  has  extraordi- 
nary cause  for  discontent,  the  person  selected  receives  its  unanimous 
support,  party  newspapers  throughout  all  the  States  retaining  the 
name  of  their  candidate,  in  large  capitals,  at  the  head  of  their  leading 
columns,  until  the  election  is  determined  in  November. 

Whilst  the  Democrats  have  been  thus  proceeding,  the  Wliigs  have 
been  preserving  a  strictly  analogous  course.  Their  convention  has 
been  called  and  chosen  in  the  same  way — has  met  and  deliberated 
upon  the  affairs  of  the  party,  and  selected  the  most  available  candi- 
date which  their  party  ranks  could  supply.  Sometimes,  but  not 
always,  the  two  conventions  assemble  in  the  same  place;  when, 
generally  speaking,  some  little  time  is  prudently  left  to  intervene 
between  their  meetings.  Both  parties  being  thus  provided  with 
candidates,  there  is,  with  the  exception  of  the  appointment  of  a 
committee  for  each  candidate,  to  correspond,  during  the  election, 
with  committees  in  the  States,  an  end  to  their  national  action,  the 
control  being  thenceforth  remanded  to  the  sections  of  the  parties  in 
the  different  States. 

Although  the  choice  of  candidates  is  the  great,  and  indeed  the 
only  object  of  these  party  conventions,  it  is  not  always  that  they 
confme  themselves  to  it.  They  are  frequently  betrayed  into  a  dis- 
cussion of  various  matters  connected  witli  the  policy  of  the  Union, 
but  more  directly  with  the  general  interests  of  the  party.  Such 
discussions  usually  result  in  a  series  of  resolutions,  which  are  im- 
bo(Hed  in  a  manifesto  issued  to  the  nation,  the  object  of  which  is  to 
excite  as  much  enthusiasm  as  possible^  in  behalf  of  the  party,  by 
taking  a  bold  stand  upon  such  points  as  are  likely  to  recommend  it 
to  the  populace.  It  was  tiius  that  in  May,  1844,  the  Democratic 
convention,  then  assembled  at  Baltimore,  adopted  the  celebrated 
Oregon  resolutions,  by  which  they  identified  tlu^  party  with  the 
Bomidary  question,  and  made  it  a  turning  point  of  the  election,  in 
which  they  subsequently  triumphed.  The  conventions  have  also, 
latterly,  evinced  a  disposition  to  assume  a  very  troublesome  and 
dictatorial  attitude,  giving  the  law  to  the  party,  and  virtually  ostracis- 
ing all  wlio  may  venture  to  deviate  from  their  behests.     Often  have 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  229 

I  heard,  during  the  Oregon  discussions  in  Congress,  a  wandering 
Democrat  recalled  to  his  allegiance  by  the  terrors  of  the  Baltimore 
convention.  The  great  bulk  of  the  party  are  slavishly  obedient  to 
their  mandates,  but  some  are  bold  enough  to  kick  against  and  defy 
them;  regarding  their  recent  assumptions  as  the  growth  of  a  novel, 
an  irresponsible,  and  therefore,  a  dangerous  power  in  the  State. 

This  part  of  the  subject  naturally  leads  to  a  consideration  of  the 
tyranny  of  party  in  the  United  States.  What  has  already  been 
said  with  regard  to  the  difficulty  of  controlling  party  may  appear  to 
militate  against  the  idea  of  its  exercising  a  tyrannical  influence  over 
its  members.  But  a  distinction  must  be  drawn  between  the  lax 
allegiance  sometimes  yielded  by  party  men  to  their  leaders,  and  the 
coerced  fidelity  which  is  observed  to  the  party  itself.  Even  with 
regard  to  the  leaders,  the  independence  of  them  which  is  sometimes 
assumed  by  the  more  troublesome  in  their  ranks,  is  frequently  more 
a  sham  than  a  reality.  But  wo  to  the  political  aspirant  who  is 
guilty  of  any  overt  act  of  disloyalty  to  the  Whig  or  Democratic 
faith  !  His  treason  might  as  well  be  branded  on  his  brow ;  for  from 
one  end  of  the  country  to  the  other  he  is  denounced  by  a  thousand 
offended  presses,  and  by  tens  of  thousands  of  indignant  tongues; 
and  the  whole  influence  of  the  party  is  brought  to  bear  politically 
to  crush  him.  It  is  scarcely  within  the  power  of  repentance  to  ex- 
piate so  grave  an  offence.  A  man  may  revile  those  at  the  head  of 
the  party  as  much  as  he  pleases,  and  be  forgiven ;  he  may  denounce 
his  leaders  in  public  and  in  private,  and  go  unscathed;  he  may  be 
troublesome  in  the  ranks,  but  so  long  as  he  does  not  forsake  them, 
he  may  remain  uncashiered.  But  let  him  lift  his  finger  against  a 
party  movement;  let  him  manoBuvre  in  opposition  to  a  party  object, 
or  vote  against  a  party  question,  and  he  is  at  once  denounced  with- 
out ceremony  or  trial,  when  his  political  hopes  are  for  ever  crushed, 
unless,  which  is  rarely  the  case,  he  is  unreservedly  adopted  by  the 
opposite  party. 

It  is  difficult  in  this  country  to  conceive  the  force  and  influence 
of  this  unmitigated  tyranny.      With  us,  party  influences  are  weak- 
ened by  local  distribution.     In  America,  they  are  concentrated  into 
one  inflexible  despotism,  which  every  member  of  the  party  impli- 
citly obeys.     In  this  respect  the  party-man  in  America  is  entirely 
divested  of  his  individualism.     He  acts  and  thinks  with  his  party; 
its  will  is  his  supreme  law.     The  mischief  is  that  this  strict  obedi- 
ence is  alike  required  through  good  and  through  evil  report.     The 
policy  of  the  day  must  be  upheld,  whatever  it  may  be.     It  is  thus 
that  the  flagitious  war  with  Mexico  was  espoused  by  the  whole 
Democratic  party,  and  that  no  Democrat  who  has  any  favours  to 
expect,  or   who   would   escape   annoyance,  dared  utter  a  syllable 
against  the  conduct  of  the  Administration.    "  'J'he  man  who  would'nt 
stand  by  his  own  Prez'dent  deserves  to  be  tabooed,"  said  a  Democrat 
VOL.  I. — 20 


230  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

to  me  one  day,  on  my  suggesting,  about  the  period  of  its  commence- 
ment, that  the  war  might  not  be  universally  acceptable  to  the  party. 
This  is  the  true  spring  of  party  action.  Stand  by  the  President, 
or,  in  other  words,  stand  by  the  party,  whatever  may  be  the  com- 
plexion of  its  policy.  There  must  be  no  squeaniishness.  The 
man  wlio  is  not  hot,  is  declared  to  be  cold.  The  rotten  limb  is 
immediately  lopped  off  the  tree. 

It  is  not  only  the  rank  and  file  that  yield  to  this  terrible  influ- 
ence— the  party  leaders  bow  to  it  with  a  fatal  submission.  There 
are  hundreds  around  them  who,  for  their  own  purposes,  are  con- 
standy  taking  the  measure  of  their  political  stature,  and  who  are 
ever  ready  to  report  any  questionable  act,  incautious  sentiment,  or 
inapt  expression,  to  their  common  master.  Nay,  more,  a  rival  is 
frequently  got  rid  of  by  first  entrapping,  and  then  denouncing  him. 
This  intellectual  subjugation, — this  utter  absorption  of  the  individual 
in  the  party,  is,  perhaps,  the  worst  achievement  of  American  De- 
mocracy. It  is  felt  to  be  a  galling  tyranny  by  more  than  dare  confess 
it  so;  and  establishes  this  curious  anomaly,  that  in  the  freest 
country  in  the  world,  a  man  may  have  less  individual  freedom  of 
political  action  or  thought,  than  under  many  of  the  mixed  govern- 
ments of  Europe. 

The  foregoing  is  applicable  only  to  the  position  of  individuals. 
When  a  diversity  of  views  or  interests  causes  a  whole  section  of  the 
party  to  rebel,  conciliation  and  not  repression  is  the  policy  adopted. 
It  is  by  a  rare  chance  that  any  of  the  more  eminent  amongst  the 
statesmen  of  America  are  now  selected  as  the  party  candidates  for 
tlie  presidency.     The  conflict  of  sectional  interests  accounts  partly 
for  this;  for  the  leader  who,  in  the  main,  may  be  eligible  to  the 
party,  may  be  more  or  less  committed  against  the  peculiar  views  of 
some  branch  or  branches  of  it.      The  slavery  question  is  a  rock  on 
which  transatlantic  statesmen  thus  frequendy  split.     The  most  emi- 
nent of  all  the  VVliigs  entertains  views  on  this  question  which  ren- 
der him  objectionable  to  the  abolitionists  of  the  north;  whilst  some 
of  the  northern  Whig  leaders  are,  from  their  views  on  the  same 
subject,  equally  unpopular  with  their  party  in  the  south.    It  is  pre- 
cisely so  with  the  Democratic  party.     In  addition  to  tliis,  they  have 
to  contend  against  the  envy  which  great  talents  naturally  beget,  and 
which  impels  little  minds,  from  sheer  malice,  to  oppose  them.    The 
eminent  statesman  who  has  many  friends,  has  also  many  enemies 
in  America,  even  in  the  ranks  of  his  own  party,  who  are  ready  to 
interpose  every  obstacle  to  his  elevation.     It  is  on  this  account 
that  each  party,  for  fear  of  dividing  its  strength,  has  found  it  neces- 
sary to  select  obscure  candidates  for  the  presidency.     Of  the  com- 
promise Presidents  thus  chosen.  General  Harrison  was  a  specimen 
on  the  part  of  the  Whigs ;  whilst  Mr.  Polk  is  one  on  that  of  the  Demo- 
crats, both  of  whom  were  recommended    to  their  respective  parties 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  231 

simply  by  their  noirntive  qualities.  If  their  admirers  were  few,  so 
were  their  enemies.  They  were  selected,  not  because  they  were 
fit  for  the  oflice;  but  because  they  were  most  available  as  can(H- 
dates.  A  growing  feeling,  however,  is  now  discernible  against 
these  presidential  make-shifts;  but  that  it  will  speedily  result  in 
more  worthy  selections  is  much  to  be  doubted. 

The  foregoing  glance  at  the  organization  of  party  in  its  national 
capacity,  will  serve  to  convey  an  idea  of  the  machinery  by  which 
it  works  in  the  different  States,  and  in  the  smaller  political  subdi- 
visions of  the  country.  In  the  State,  each  party  has  its  own  State 
central  committee,  which  convokes,  when  necessary,  its  own  State 
convention,  for  the  nomination  of  candidates  for  Slate  offices,  and 
the  general  consideration  of  questions  affecting  the  interest  of  the 
party  so  far  as  the  State  is  concerned.  But  these  State  conventions 
do  not  always  confine  themselves  to  questions  affecting  the  States  in 
which  they  are  respectively  held.  Sometimes,  indeed,  they  are 
called  upon  to  act  in  matters  of  national  concern,  as  to  nominate  a 
list  of  party  candidates  for  the  electoral  college  of  each  State,  by 
whom  the  voice  of  the  State,  in  the  election  of  a  President,  is  to  be 
ultimately  signified.  But  in  addition  to  this,  they  frequently  volun- 
teer discussions  on  national  topics,  which  usually  end  in  the 
adoption  of  sundry  resolutions  concerning  them.  But  these  are  not 
binding  upon  the  party  generally,  nor  are  they  so,  unless  doggedly 
made  so,  upon  the  party  in  the  State  whose  representatives  adopt 
them.  They  are  only  thrown  out  as  feelers,  and  as  significant  of 
the  wishes  of  those  who  promulgate  them,  but  not  as  imperative 
upon  their  fellow-partisans  in  the  other  States;  nor  to  be  adhered 
to  by  themselves,  should  the  general  interests  of  the  party  appear 
on  due  consideration  to  demand  a  diffJ'erent  policy.  Thus,  some 
mondis  ago,*  the  Democratic  convention  of  the  State  of  Ohio,  alter 
terminating  its  regular  business,  passed  a  resolution  before  separa- 
ting, nominating  General  Cass  as  their  candidate  for  the  presidency. 
But  this  meant  neither  more  nor  less  than  that,  for  the  time  being, 
this  military  worthy  appeared  to  the  Democrats  of  Ohio  as  the  most 
eligible  candidate  for  the  office  in  the  Democratic  camp.  They 
were  by  no  means  committed  by  it  to  the  General,  leaving  their 
final  action  to  depend  upon  the  nomination  to  be  made  some  months 
afterwards  by  the  national  party  convention.  It  is  a  common  fea- 
ture in  the  tactics  of  American  party,  to  have  these  straws  thrown  up 
from  diflferent  quarters,  to  ascertain  how  the  wind  is  setting  in,  before 
fairly  embarking  on  a  presidential  campaign;  the  different  parties  in 
the  different  States  thus  giving  to  their  coadjutors  throughout  the 
country  premonitory  symptoms  of  their  political  predilections  for  the 
time  being.     The  consequence  is,  that  before  the  meeting  of  the 

*  In  1847. 


232  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

national  convention,  tlie  conflicting  views,  when  they  are  in  conflict, 
of  the  different  sections  of  the  party  are  all  ascertained  ;  so  that  that 
body  is  never  taken  by  surprise  by  the  introduction  of  questions  of 
which  no  notice  had  been  aflbrded  it. 

Parties  carry  the  same  machinery  into  their  county  organization 
for  county  purposes;  their  interests,  in  this  respect,  being  confided 
to  the  care  of  county  central  committees  and  county  conventions. 
The  legitimate  business  of  the  latter,  when  they  meet,  does  not  ex- 
tend beyond  party  matters  of  local  concern,  but  they  frequently,  by 
their  resolutions,  communicate  their  views  and  sentiments  to  their 
fellow-partisans  throughout  the  State,  as  the  State  conventions  have 
just  been  shown  to  communicate  to  the  party  throughout  the  Union 
the  peculiar  views  of  the  section  of  it  confined  to  their  respective 
States.  The  same  organization,  and  with  the  same  results,  is  car- 
ried down  into  the  township,  which,  with  the  exception  of  the 
school  district,  is,  perhaps,  the  minutest  political  subdivision  known 
to  the  United  Slates. 

In  addition  to  the  regular  machinery  just  described,  by  which 
party  in  America  usually  works,  its  action  is  sometimes  thrown 
into  extraordinary  channels,  when  party  exigencies  may  appear  to 
demand  a  deviation  from  the  regular  course.  When  it  is  deemed 
desirable  to  excite  a  spirit  of  enthusiasm,  occasional  demonstrations 
are  resorted  to  for  that  purpose,  for  the  management  of  which  an 
incidental  organization  of  party  is  found  necessary.  Thus,  instead 
of,  or  in  addition  to,  meeting  by  its  conventions,  the  party,  both  in 
the  State  and  in  the  county,  is  sometimes  summoned  to  meet  in  its 
primary  assemblies.  If  either  party  deems  it  desirable  to  make  a 
State  demonstration  in  its  elementary  capacit)'-,  its  State  central 
committee  is  competent  to  do  so,  and  generally  does  summon  it; 
and  so  when  an  extraordinary  county  meeting  is  determined  upon, 
the  county  central  committee  is  usually  the  organ  through  wliich  it 
is  called  together.  But  the  younger  members  of  either  party  ai-e 
sometimes  desirous  of  making  a  demonstration  of  their  own,  which 
they  effect,  whenever  it  is  deemed  expedient,  through  the  instru- 
mentality of  a  Young  Men's  (Whig  or  Democratic)  State  central 
committee,  each  county  being  provided  with  a  similar  agency  for 
summoning  county  meetings  when  they  are  required.  These  aggre- 
gate meetings  of  party  in  its  primary  capacity,  whether  of  the  party 
generally,  or  of  its  younger  branches,  are  not  witliout  their  weight 
in  determining  the  issue  of  party  contests.  I  have  seen  them  some- 
times, when  they  assumed  a  very  imposing  aspect,  assembled,  as 
men  of  one  opinion  were,  from  all  parts  of  a  State,  in  tlieir  tens, 
their  fitUes,  and  even  their  hundreds  of  tiiousands.  In  meeting, 
they  converge  from  their  different  counties  to  some  central  point  iu 
the  State,  when  such  as  cannot  find  oilier  accommodation,  encamp 
in  the  open  field.     They  pass  through  the  difierent  towns  and  vil- 


\ 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  233 

lages,  on  their  way  to  the  place  of  meetinir,  in  ffay  prooe?sion,  witli 
bands  of  music,  at  tlicir  head,  and  Ihiuntiiig  banners,  on  which  parly 
devices  are  emblazoned,  wavino;  over  lliem.  Sometimes  they  en- 
liven their  march  with  a  song,  which  generally  embodies  a  political 
pasquinade.  They  are  always  well  received  and  lustily  cheered 
by  their  adherents  in  each  place  through  which  they  pass,  whilst 
their  opponents  make  it  a  business  to  turn  out  and  laugh  at  them. 
But  the  whole  affair  passes  off  very  good-humouredly,  each  ])arty 
having  the  opportunity  of  laughing,  as  well  as  of  looking  serious, 
in  its  turn.  To  the  count)^  conventions  the  farmers  repair  on  foot, 
or  in  their  heavy  lumbering  wagons,  several  of  which,  from  the 
same  township,  are  sometimes  formed  into  procession,  with  Hags 
and  music.  Those  who  attend  from  the  towns  generally  go  in 
lighter  vehicles.  Sometimes  a  central  town,  or  village,  is  selected 
as  the  spot  for  holding  a  county  convention;  at  other  times,  it  is  held 
in  the  depths  of  the  forest;  and  it  is  curious,  on  these  latter  occa- 
sions, to  see  the  assembled  multitude  divided  into  groups,  some  on 
the  ground,  some  clustering  in  and  around  the  \vagons,  some  on 
horseback,  and  others  dangling,  as  it  were,  from  the  trees,  listening 
to  their  favourite  orators,  who  address  them  from  a  platform  hastily 
erected  by  throwing  some  wagons  together — their  hurrahs  reverbe- 
rating, every  now  and  then,  through  the  forest  glades,  whilst  t!iey 
are  sheltered  from  the  burning  heat  of  the  sun  by  the  leafy  canopy 
which  overhangs  them.  And  not  unfrequendy,  during  these  meet- 
ings, do  you  see  pardes  stepping  aside,  in  twos  and  threes,  to  do  a 
^' bit  of  trade," 

Allusion  has  frequently  been  made  to  the  nomination  of  candi- 
dates, and  I  cannot  close  this  chapter  without  briefly  adverting  to 
the  difference  which  exists,  in  this  respect,  between  party  conduct 
in  America  and  in  England.  With  us,  electors  have  generally  to 
choose  between  candidates  who  voluntarily  come  forward.  In  Ame- 
rica there  is  no  volunteering  one's  services  as  a  representative.  Not 
that  the  post  is  less  coveted  than  it  is  with  us,  but  party,  in  eacli  lo- 
cality, reser%'es  to  itself  the  double  right  of  selecting  its  candidate, 
and  then  electing  him  as  its  representative.  This  plan  tends  very 
much  to  the  preservation  of  the  unity  of  party;  the  individual  se- 
lected, when  parties  are  pretty  equally  balanced,  being  generally 
the  most  available  candidate  in  his  district  for  the  time  being,  and 
receiving  the  unanimous  support  of  his  political  coadjutors.  As 
with  us,  in  districts  where  a  party  is  overwhelmingly  strong,  it  can 
afford  to  quarrel  with  itself  on  any  topic,  and  frequendy  does  so  oil 
the  selection  of  a  candidate.  But,  generally  speaking,  the  person 
selected  is  unanimously  adopted  by  the  party;  the  plan  being  first 
to  ballot,  to  ascertain  the  different  views  of  the  part}^  with  regard  to 
a  candidate;  and  then  to  nominate,  by  a  unanimous  ballot,  hint 
who  has  the  decided  majority  in  tlic  first,  or  subsequent  l)allots. 

20- 


234  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

None  but  the  person  so  nominated  lias  any  chance  of  success.  The 
mere  volunteer  is  treated  with  derision,  and  contemptuously  styled 
a  "  stump  candidate."  Such  a  phenomenon  rarely  manifests  itself, 
and  when  it  does,  it  meets  with  but  little  encouragement. 

1  have  now  said  enough  to  show  how  prolific  a  subject  is  that  of 
American  party.  In  the  foregoing  pages  it  has  been  but  cursorily 
treated,  to  meet  the  exigencies  of  a  work  like  the  present.  1  trust, 
however,  that  the  examination  has  been  sufficiently  pursued  to  ena- 
ble the  reader  to  form  at  least  a  general  idea  of  the  whole  subject, 
and  to  convince  him  that,  however  diversified  may  be  its  ramifica- 
tions, complex  its  machinery,  and  apparently  intricate  its  movements, 
party  in  America  is  a  system,  when  studied  easily,  understood,  be- 
cause well  organized. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


THE  EAST  AND  THE  AVEST. 


The  Potomac  above  Washington.— The  Chesapeake  and  Ohio  Canal.— Artifi- 
cial Ties  between  the  East  and  the  West.— Their  Political  and  Commer- 
cial consequences  to  the  Confederacy. — The  Shade.— An  Attack  and  a 
Defeat.— The  Falls  of  the  Potomac— South  Lowell.— The  Forest  at  Sun- 
set.—Pic-nic  Parties. — An  American  Thunder-storm. 

It  was  a  fine  morning  in  the  month  of  May,  when  my  friend 

Mr.  Ct proposed  a  stroll   along  the  banks  of  the  Potomac. 

Passing  through  Georgetown,  in  ascending  the  stream,  we  lound 
ourselves  upon  the  tow-path  of  the  great  Maryland  canal,  designed 
to  unite  the  waters  of  the  Ohio  with  those  of  the  Chesapeake.  At 
Georgetown,  M'hich  is  at  the  head  of  tide-water,  and  of  the  naviga- 
tion of  the  Potomac,  the  river  suddenly  narrows,  and  here  the  canal 
is  conveyed  across  to  its  southern  bank  by  means  of  a  stupendous 
aqueduct,  the  trunk  of  which  is  of  wood,  supported  at  a  great  height 
above  the  stream  by  several  abutments  of  heavy  masonry.  As  we 
proceeded  along  the  tow-path  we  had  the  canal  on  our  right,  and 
on  the  opposite  side  of  it,  a  w^all  of  rock,  hewn  into  irregular  shai)e 
in  excavating  its  channel.  Above  the  line  of  rock  rose  the  Mary- 
land bank  of  the  river,  its  gentler  acclivities  having  been  rescued 
from  the  forest,  but,  in  its  abrupter  parts,  still  shrouded  in  luxuriant 
foliage.     On  our  left,  and  fiir  below  us,  was  the  Potomac,  now  con- 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  235 

fined  to  a  comparatively  narrow  bed;  its  volume  swollen  with  re- 
cent rains,  and  rolling  tumultuously  along;  sometimes  lingering  in 
dark  eddying  pools,  covered  with  circular  patches  of  foam,  resem- 
bling myriads  of  water-lilies;  then  brawling  over  broken  rocks  and 
gurgling  around  stony  islets,  clothed  in  stunted  shrubbery.  The 
Virginia  bank  opposite  was  lofty  and  precipitous,  the  glorious  pri- 
meval woods  sweeping  down,  in  most  places,  to  the  water's  edge. 
There  is  no  walk  about  Washington  to  compare  to  this.  There  is 
a  loneliness  about  the  scene  which  is  only  now  and  then  interrupted 
by  the  solitary  canal  boat,  which  glides  noiselessly  by;  and  a  still- 
ness, which  is  only  broken  by  the  sleepy  music  of  the  river,  and  the 
symphony  of  the  Mnnds  among  the  foliage  on  its  banks. 

The  sun  was  powerful,  but,  as  we  strolled  leisurely  along,  a  fresh 
breeze  from  the  west  protected  us  from  its  heat,  and  from  the  swarms 
of  insects  with  which  we  should  otherwise  have  been  assailed.  The 
face  of  the  canal  became  wrinkled  under  its  touch,  and  every  leaf 
swung  tremblingly  to  and  fro,  as  if  eager  to  be  fanned  by  its  cooling 
breath. 

"  The  Potomac  has  played  some  part  in  your  military  annals," 
said  I  to  my  companion,  as  we  wound  round  a  bend  of  the  river, 
which  opened  up  to  us  a  magnificent  expanse  of  the  two  contiguous 
States,  stretching  back,  in  gentle  undulation,  to  a  great  distance  from 
either  bank  of  the  stream.  "  The  operations  at  Harper's  Ferry  con- 
stitute a  prominent  page  in  your  revolutionary  history." 

"As  do  the  evolutions  of  the  British  squadron  in  the  Chesapeake, 
in  the  story  of  the  late  war,"  replied  he,  with  a  look,  which,  in 
meaning,  went  much  further  than  his  words. 

"You  allude  to  the  descent  upon  Washington,"  said  I. 

"And  to  the  burning  of  the  Capitol,  and  the  destruction  of  the  civil 
records  of  the  country,"  added  he  hastily,  with  somewhat  of  bitter- 
ness in  his  tone. 

"An  unfortunate,  if  not  an  indefensible  act,"  said  I;  "but  one  of 
the  almost  unavoidable  excesses  of  a  protracted  contest.  Let  us 
hope  that  Oregon  may  never  be  the  cause  of  a  second  visit  of  a  si- 
milar character  to  the  Potomac." 

"Amen!"  ejaculated  my  friend;  "but  such  another  visit,  should 
it  occur,  will  not  be  the  precursor  of  another  Bladensburg." 

"Nothing,"  I  observed,  changing  the  conversation,  "seems  so 
much  to  impress  the  mind  of  the  stranger  with  the  greatness  of  tlie 
scale  on  which  all  the  natural  features  of  this  continent  are  con- 
structed, as  do  the  extent  and  grandeur  of  its  streams.  Here  is  the 
Potomac,  which,  with  its  magnificent  estuary,  would  be  entided  to 
rank  amongst  the  first-class  streams  in  Europe,  rising  in  America 
no  higher  than  the  third  class  in  the  scale  of  rivers." 

"Its  chief  value  above  tide-water,"  observed  Mr.  G ,  "  is  as 

a  great  geographical  feature,  not  only  forming  a  dividing  line  be- 


236  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

tween  two  independent  jurisdictions,  but  giving  additional  stability 
to  the  Union,  by  adding  one  to  the  many  other  links  which  exist 
to  connect  the  eastern  with  the  western  section  of  the  confede- 
racy." 

"  It  is  a  common  thing  in  Europe,"  said  I,  "  to  speculate  upon 
the  probabilities  of  a  speedy  dissolution  between  the  northern  and 
southern  divisions  of  the  Union;  but  I  confess  that,  for  myself,  I 
have  for  some  time  back  been  of  opinion  that,  should  a  disseverance 
ever  take  place,  the  danger  is  that  it  will  be  between  the  East  and 
the  West." 

"On  what  do  you  base  such  an  opinion?"  inquired  my  compa- 
nion. 

"  On  referring  to  the  map,"  replied  I,  "  it  will  be  found  that  fully 
one-third  of  the  members  of  the  confederation  are  situated  in  the 
same  great  basin,  having  one  great  interest  in  common  between 
them,  being  irrigated  by  the  same  system  of  navigable  rivers,  and 
all  united  together  into  one  powerful  belt  by  their  common  artery, 
the  Mississippi." 

"Admitting  this,"  observed  my  friend,  "what  danger  arises  there- 
from to  the  stability  of  the  Union?" 

"Only  that  arising  from  a  probable  conflict  of  interests,"  rcpliod 
I.  "  The  great  region  drained  by  the  Mississippi  is  pre-eminently 
aofricultural,  whilst  much  of  the  sea-board  is  manufacturing'  and 
commercial.  The  first-named  region  is  being  rapidly  filled  with  an 
adventurous  and  energetic  population ;  and  its  material  resources 
are  being  developed  at  a  ratio  unexampled  in  the  annals  of  human 
progress.  The  revolution  of  a  very  few  years  will  find  it  powerlul 
enough  to  stand  by  itself,  should  it  feel  so  inclined,  and  then  nothing 
can  prevent  a  fatal  collision  of  interests  between  it  and  the  difierent 
communities  on  the  sea-board,  but  the  recognition  and  adoption  of  a 
commercial  policy,  which  will  afford  it  an  ample  outlet  for  its  vast 
and  varied  productions." 

"But  suppose  it  finds  this  outlet  in  the  Atlantic  States?" 
"Impossible,"  replied  I.  "The  myriads  who  will  yet  people 
the  great  valley  cannot  be  confined  to  the  markets  of  America. 
Should  the  States  on  the  sea-board  swarm  with  population,  tli(M'r 
wants  will  suffice  to  absorb  only  a  fraction  of  the  surplus  produce 
of  the  States  on  the  Mississippi.  The  exigencies  of  the  latter 
position  will  require  that  they  have  unrestricted  access  to  the  mar- 
kets of  the  world,  by  unfettering,  as  much  as  possible,  the  trade  which 
the  world  will  be  anxious  to  carry  on  with  them.  And  on  this 
they  will  be  all  tlie  more  able,  by-and-by,  to  insist,  and  at  all  lia- 
zards  too,  when  it  is  considered  that  the  Mississippi  offers  them  an 
easy,  and  at  the  same  time  an  independent  outlet  to  the  Ocean."   • 

"Precisely  so,"  said  Mr.   G ;  "you  have  discerned  the 

danger,  but  have  made  no  account  of  the  remedy." 


1 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  237 

"I  see  no  remedy  which  can  reach  the  case  short  of  that  which 
is  very  diflicult  of  attainment — a  tinal  and  satisfactory  adjustment 
of  great  conflicting  interests." 

"I  am  free  to  admit,"  said  my  friend,  "the  necessity  for  such  an 
adjustment,  as  an  essential  condition  to  the  stability  of  the  Union; 
at  the  same  time,  I  am  sensible  of  the  difficulty  of  fullilling  that 
condition,  from  the  character,  magnitude,  and  importance  of  the 
interests  involved.  The  exuberant  fertility  of  the  Mississippi  val- 
ley can  scarcely  be  exaggerated,  whilst  the  tendency  of  population 
thither  cannot  be  repressed.  An  idea  may  thus  be  formed  of  the 
influences  which  the  great  agricultural  section  of  the  Union  is 
speedily  destined  to  assume.  On  the  other  hand,  nearly  five  mil- 
lions of  dollars  have  already  been  invested,  east  of  the  Alleghenies, 
in  manufactures.  Daily  additions  are  being  made  to  this  huge  in- 
vestment; and  the  miner,  the  iron-master,  the  woollen  manufacturer, 
and  the  cotton  spinner,  are  taking  rapid  strides  in  extending  their 
operations  and  enhancing  their  power.  Between  two  such  interests, 
should  a  collision  arise,  the  results  would  be  most  disastrous.  Po- 
litical considerations  would  vanish  in  the  contest  between  material 
interests,  and  the  frame-work  of  the  Confederacy  might  dissolve 
before  the  shock.  These  are  the  difficulties  of  the  case.  Antago- 
nistic as  they  are  in  many  respects  in  their  interests,  were  the  East 
and  the  West  to  be  left  physically  isolated  from  each  other,  the  dif- 
ficulties in  the  w^ay  of  compromise  of  interests  would  indeed  be 
insurmountable.  Had  the  East  no  direct  hold  upon  the  West,  and 
had  the  West  no  communication  with  the  rest  of  tlie  world  but 
through  the  Mississippi,  one  might  well  despair  of  a  permanent 
recon'ciliation.  It  is  in  obviating  the  physical  obstructions,  which, 
unremoved,  would  throw  the  current  of  their  interests  into  different 
directions,  that  the  great  barrier  to  a  permanent  good  understanding 
between  the  East  and  the  West  has  been  broken  down;  it  is  by 
rendering  each  more  necessary  to  the  other  that  the  foundation  has 
been  laid  for  that  mutual  concession,  which  alone  can  ensure  future 
harmony  and  give  permanence  to  the  Union." 

"And  how^  have  you  done  this?"  inquired  I. 

"We  have  tapped  the  West,"  replied  he. 

"Tapped  the  West!"  I  repeated,  looking  surprised  and  inqui- 
ringly into  his  face. 

"The  expression,  I  perceive,  requires  explanation,"  added  my 
friend.  "This  very  canal,  along  the  banks  of  which  we  are  now 
strolling,  illustrates  what  I  mean  by  tapping  the  West." 

"How  so?"  I  demanded.  "The  Chesapeake  and  Ohio  canal  is 
one  of  those  stupendous  attempts  at  internal  improvement,  for 
which,  whilst  they  have  as  yet  accomplished  nothing,  so  many  of 
the  states  of  the  Union  have  unfortunately  pledged  their  credit. 
What  has  Maryland  gained  by  this  gigantic  undertaking,  but  a 
sullied  reputation  and  a  bankrupt  treasury?" 


288  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

"The  work  is  iinprocliictive,"  said  Mr.  G ,  "simply  be- 
cause incomplete.  Only  one  half  of  its  whole  intended  lenirtli  has 
as  yet  been  constructed;  but  were  the  waters  of  the  Ohio  and  the 
Chesapeake  once  fairly  united  by  it,  it  would  speedily  replenish  the 
treasury,  and  restore  the  credit  of  Maryland.  But  waiving  this, 
and  rejrardino:  the  canal  as  an  unfinished  specimen  of  the  manv 
, other  works  of  a  similar  character,  which  have  been  begun  and 
ended,  and  which  are  now  in  successful  operation,  it  still  illustrates 
my  meaning,  in  saying  that  the  East  has  tapped  the  West." 

"  By  tapping  the  West,  then,  you  mean    opening    direct   com-  | 

munications  between  the  East  and  the  West?" 

"Exactly  so,"  said  he.  "Had  matters  been  left  as  nature  ar- 
ranged them,  the  whole  traffic  of  the  Mississippi  valley  would  have 
been  thrown  upon  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  Two  classes  of  conside- 
rations impelled  us  to  attempt  to  obviate  this;  the  first  having  refe- 
rence to  the  interests  which  the  East  would  subserve  in  establishing 
a  direct  communication  with  the  West;  and  the  second,  to  the 
prevention  of  the  inconvenient  commercial  and  political  alliances, 
to  which  the  isolation  of  the  West  might  have  given  rise." 

"But  of  what  value  is  the  Potomac  to  you  in  this  respect?"  in- 
quired I.  "The  falls  and  rapids,  with  which  its  channel  abounds, 
render  it  unnavigable  above  Washington." 

"The  advantage  is  not  so  much  in  the  river  itself,"  said  my 
friend,  "as  in  the  valley  through  which  it  flows.  The  great  impedi- 
ment to  be  overcome,  is  in  the  spurs  and  ridges  of  the  Alleghenies, 
which  separate  the  waters  flowing  to  the  Atlantic  from  those  falling 
into  the  Mississippi.  We  take  advantage  of  the  channels  of  tlie 
Atlantic  streams  to  penetrate  to  the  nearest  navigable  points  of  the  I 

tributaries  of  the  JMississippi.  When  the  streams  are  impracticable, 
nothing  is  left  us  but  to  improve  their  channels,  or  to  avoid  them 
by  artificial  navigation.  Even  the  cataract  of  Niagara  is  avoided 
by  a  canal,  after  which  no  difficulty  could  be  made  of  the  rapids  of 
the  Potomac." 

"  When  I  consider,"  said  I,  "  the  many  parallel  lines  of  artificial 
communication  which  you  have  established  between  the  East  and 
the  West,  I  must  say  that,  in  tapping  the  latter,  you  have  tapped  it 
liberally." 

"We  have  taken,  or  are  taking,  advantage  of  all  our  opportu- 
nities in  this  respect,"  replied  he.     "Virginia  is  tapping  the  West  \ 
by  uniting  the  Ohio  to  the  Atlantic,  by  means  of  the  .Tames  River  l 
and  Kanawha  canal,  constructed  in  the  valley  of  the  river.     Mary-  ' 
land  is  doing  the  same  by  this  Chesapeake  and  Ohio  canal,  which 
follows  the  course  of  the  Potomac,  and  is  doubling  her  hold  upon 
the  Mississippi  and  its  tributaries  by  the  Baltimore  and  Ohio  rail- 
way, which  debouches  upon  the  same  valley  after  first  ascending 
that  of  the  Patapsco  from  Baltimore.     Pennsylvania   has  tapped 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  239 

the  West  by  means  of  her  double  line  of  railway  and  canal,  de- 
scending upon  the  Ohio  after  ascending  the  Susquehanna;  and  New 
York,  which  took  the  lead  in  the  process,  has  done  the  same  by  di- 
recting the  waters  of  Lake  Erie  through  her  great  canal,  along  the 
fertile  valley  of  the  Mohawk,  to  the  Hudson,  and,  consequently, 
to  the  Atlantic." 

"And  lo  these  you  look,"  observed  I,  "as  your  securities  for  the 
integrity  of  the  republic?" 

"As  bonds,"  said  he,  "the  existence  of  which  renders  impro- 
bable the  severance  of  the  East  from  the  West.  These  four  great 
parallel  lines  of  intercommunication  have  effectually  counteracted 
the  political  tendencies  of  the  Mississippi.  That  bond  of  political 
union  to  the  States  of  the  Far  West,  if  not  actually  broken,  is  now 
rendered  harmless  as  regards  the  safety  of  the  Confederacy,  for  it 
is  now  subsidiary  to  the  ties  which  unite  the  great  valley  to  the 
Atlantic  sea-board.  An  element  of  weakness  has  been  converted 
into  an  element  of  strength ;  for  as  the  Mississippi  binds  together 
the  whole  West,  so  do  these  gigantic  artificial  communications  in- 
separably connect  the  whole  West,  thus  bound  together,  with  the 
East,  by  closely  identifying  the  interests  of  the  two.  It  is  no 
longer  the  policy  of  either  section  of  the  Union  to  stand  alone. 
By-and-by  the  commerce  of  the  Mississippi  valley  will  outgrow  the 
facilities  for  traffic  which  the  Mississippi  affords  it.  It  will  then 
require  more  seaports  than  New  Orleans,  and  to  what  quarter  can 
it  look  for  them  but  to  the  Atlantic?  The  time  will  come,  if  not 
already  come,  when  its  teeming  population  and  accumulated  re- 
sources will  find  their  best  and  most  expeditious  roads  to  the  markets 
of  the  world,  through  the  defiles  of  the  Alleghenies.  Much  of  its 
produce  will  continue  to  seek  the  markets  of  the  West  Indies,  and 
of  South  and  Central  America,  through  the  Gulf  of  Mexico;  but 
its  starting  points  for  the  great  marts  of  the  Old  World  will  as- 
suredly be  Boston,  New  York,  Philadelphia,  and  Baltimore.  Even 
already  the  great  bulk  of  Western  produce,  on  its  way  to  Europe, 
seeks  the  Atlantic  instead  of  the  Gulf.  New  York  is  now  as  much 
a  seaport  of  Indiana  and  Illinois,  of  Iowa,  Missouri,  and  Ohio,  as 
is  New  Orleans." 

"  To  the  more  northerly  States  of  the  valley,  the  former  is  now 
more  accessible  than  the  latter,  whilst  for  many  purposes  it  is  prefera- 
ble, such  as  for  the  shipment  of  grain ;  some  species  of  which  are  so 
sensitive,  that  they  run  great  risk  of  being  damaged  by  the  hot  sun 
of  New  Orleans,  and  the  protracted  voyage  around  the  peninsula  of 
Florida.  Every  thing,  too,  which  improves  the  position,  of  the 
West,  as  regards  the  Atlantic  seaports,  renders  the  mutual  depend- 
ence between  the  two  sections  of  the  Union,  as  respects  their 
home  trade,  more  intimate  and  complete.  In  addition  to  this,  it 
strengthens  more  and  more  the  sentiment  of  nationality,  by  bringing 


240  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

the  denizens  of  the  AVest  and  the  East  in  constant  communication 
with  each  other.  They  freely  traverse  each  other's  tields,  and 
walk  each  other's  streets,  and  feel  equally  at  home,  whether  they 
are  on  the  Wabash,  the  Arkansas,  the  Potomac,  the  Susquehanna, 
the  Genesee,  or  the  St.  John's.  This  is  what  we  have  efiected 
by  tappinof  the  West,  We  have  united  it  to  us  by  bonds  of  iron, 
which  it  cannot,  ?ind  which,  if  it  could,  it  would  not  break.  By 
binding  it  to  the  older  States  by  the  strong  tie  of  material  interests, 
we  have  identified  its  political  sentiment  with  our  own.  We  have 
made  the  twain  one  by  our  canals,  our  railroads,  and  our  electric 
telegraphs,  by  making  the  Atlantic  more  necessary  to  the  West  than 
the  Gulf;  in  short,"  said  he,  "6?/  removing  the  Alleghenies.'^ 

Our  conversation  here  dropped,  and  we  proceeded  for  some  time 
in  silence.  My  thoughts  were  busy  with  the  singular,  but  yet  un- 
developed, destinies  of  this  extraordinary  country.  To  have  the 
conflicting  interests  of  two  halves  of  a  continent  thus  reconciled 
and  harmonized  by  a  few  ditches  filled  with  water  and  a  few  belts 
of  iron,  seemed  too  startling  for  credence.  How  diflferent  the  rela- 
tions between  the  Mississippi  and  the  Hudson  from  those  of  the 
Danube  and  the  Rhine!  The  more  I  pondered  on  his  premises, 
the  more  satisfied  did  I  become  of  the  correctness  of  his  conclu- 
sions. I  was  reconverted  to  the  opinion  that  slavery  alone  could 
give  a  shock  to  the  Union.  No  where  in  the  world  is  the  influence 
of  material  interests,  in  controlling  social  and  political  phenomena, 
more  obviously  displayed  than  in  America.  The  difficulties  in  the 
way  of  the  supremacy  of  this  influence  in  Europe  are  infinitely 
greater  than  in  the  transatlantic  world.  But  even  here,  where  dif- 
ferences of  race,  language,  and  religion,  of  historic  associations 
and  national  traditions,  interpose  to  retard  the  fraternization  of  the 
great  European  community,  the  strides  which  are  being  daily  made 
in  the  career  of  material  improvement  cannot  be  resultless,  but 
must  rapidly  break  down  the  barriers  which  ages  of  discord  and 
alienation  have  accumulated  in  the  way  of  fusion  and  union;  until 
linked,  as  they  soon  will  be  at  innumerable  points,  by  railways  and 
canals,  in  the  bonds  of  one  common  interest,  the  different  States  of 
this  continent  will  yet  approximate  the  political  condition  of  con- 
federate America. 

We  had  now  walked  several  miles,  and  having  reached  an  indenta- 
tion in  the  river's  bank  com])letely  sheltered  from  the  sun,  took  ad- 
vantage of  the  deep  shade  which  reposed  in  it,  to  rest  and  refresh 
ourselves.  A  small  rivulet  came  gurgling  down  the  bank,  some- 
limes  leaping,  in  its  way,  over  a  tiny  ledge  of  rock  ;  at  others,  stealing 
noiselessly  under  the  withered  leaves  of  many  autumns,  which  the 
eddying  winds  had  deposited  in  the  crevice  ;  and  gathering  close  to 
where  we  sat  into  a  cool  limpid  pool,  in  a  natural  basin  of  stone, 
incrustcd  with  small  patches  of  pale  green  vegetation.     From  this 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  241 

bowl  we  mixed  the  cool  draught  with  the  contents  of  our  flasks, 
and  lay  back  to  enjoy  the  shade.  Our  enjoyment,  however,  was 
but  short-lived,  for  we  were  soon  driven  from  our  retreat  by  the 
persecutions  of  an  enemy,  with  which,  in  these  latitudes,  it  is  next 
to  impossible  to  cope.  Swarms  of  insects,  seeking  shelter  from 
the  breeze,  filled  the  secluded  nook  in  which  we  sat.  They  were 
of  various  sizes,  from  the  almost  invisible  gnat,  to  the  plethoric 
and  well  armed  mosquito;  whilst,  every  now  and  then,  a  gorgeous 
dragon-fly,  poised  like  a  well  directed  arrow,  would  cleave  its  way 
through  them,  and  whirr  about  our  ears,  innocuous  but  looking  mis- 
chief. Our  entrance  seemed  at  first  to  disturb  the  tiny  throng,  but 
they  soon  rallied  into  legions,  and  attacked  us  on  all  sides,  amid 
an  unmistakeable  flourish  of  trumpets.  It  M'as  in  vain  that  we 
strove  to  fan  them  off.  Though  mown  down  in  myriads,  like  Rus- 
sian infantry,  they  were  undismayed  by  the  slaughter,  continuing 
their  assaults  and  accompanying  them  with  a  ceaseless  hum,  which 
soon  threw  every  nerve  of  our  bodies  into  a  state  of  painful  vibra- 
tion. Passive  endurance  was  out  of  the  question,  whilst  gallantry 
against  such  numbers  was  but  being  prodigal  of  a  virtue.  There 
was  nothing  left  for  us  but  to  retreat,  which  we  were  glad  to  do  ;  pur- 
sued, until  we  gained  the  sunshine  and  the  breeze,  by  hosts  of  fly- 
ing lancers,  to  whom  was  assigned  the  duty  of  following  up  the  vic- 
tory. 

A  walk  of  another  hour  or  two  brought  us  to  the  Falls  of  the  Po- 
tomac, about  fifteen  miles  distant  from  Washington.  Here  we  found 
a  very  good  inn,  where  we  dined,  and  took  up  our  quarters  for  the 
night.  After  dinner  we  strolled  about  the  Fall,  which,  although 
striking  and  picturesque  in  itself,  is,  for  this  country,  where  lake, 
river,  and  cataract  are  on  so  magnificent  a  scale,  rather  insignificant. 
It  affords  an  almost  inexhaustible,  and  most  available  water-power; 
a  circumstance  not  overlooked  by  the  prying  eyes  of  iVmerican  en- 
terprise ;  the  property  in  its  vicinity  having  been  purchased  by  a 
few  energetic  speculators,  with  a  view  to  converting  it  into  a  new 
seat  of  manufacturing  industry.  With  this  intent  it  is  already  laid 
out  into  land  and  water  lots.  In  the  hands  of  Virginians  it  might 
never  advance  beyond  this  point,  but  stimulated  by  the  roving  en- 
terprise of  New  England,  it  is  not  improbable  that  South  Lowell, 
for  so  the  embryo  city  has  been  called,  will  yet  rival  the  Lowell  of 
the  North. 

A  descending  sun  was  gilding  the  tree-tops  as  we  directed  our 
steps  into  the  neighbouring  forest;  the  western  heavens  were  in  one 
blaze  of  light,  the  sun's  disc  being  scarcely  distinguishable  in  the 
flood  of  pearly  lustre  which  he  threw  around  his  setting  moments. 
We  strolled  for  some  distance  under  a  lofty  canopy  of  the  richest 
foliage,  supported  by  the  stately  trunks  of  the  primeval  trees,  which 
towered  high  before  their  colossal  proportions  were  broken  by  a 
VOL.  I. — 21 


242  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

single  branoli.  Tlie  skirt  of  the  forest,  which  had  a  western  aspect, 
was  densely  fringed  with  a  most  luxuriant  vegetation,  underlaid  with 
beautiful  shrubs,  and  variegated  wild  flowers.  The  honeysuckle 
and  the  wild  vine  here  and  there  hung  in  graceful  festoons  between 
the  young  trees,  which  intertwined  their  sappy  branrhos,  in  their  com- 
mon struggle  for  air  and  light;  the  departing  sunlight  streaming 
through  Uieir  large  juicy  leaves,  as  through  a  medium  of  liquid 
amber,  and  bringing  out  every  vein  and  artery  which  permeated 
them,  as  the  microscope  does  the  exquisite  anatomy  of  the  butter- 
fly's wing.  Myriads  of  insects  floated  in  the  shade,  and  rendered 
the  air  tremulous  with  their  monotonous  evening  hymn ;  whilst  every 
now  and  then,  the  tiny  but  lustrous  humming-bird  swept  across  our 
path,  to  take  for  the  day  his  last  cup  of  nectar  from  his  favourite 
flowers.  In  the  cool  of  the  evening  we  returned  to  our  hotel,  and 
fatigued  as  we  were  by  the  day's  exertions,  slept  soundly,  although 
it  was  abundantly  evident  next  morning  that  the  blood-thirsty  mus- 
quito  had  profited  by  our  unconsciousness. 

We  returned  next  day  to  Washington  by  the  route  which  we  had 
traversed  on  the  previous  day.  We  encountered  but  few  travellers 
to  interrupt  the  solitude  of  our  journey,  with  the  exception  of  meet- 
ing every  now  and  then  a  slave,  generally  with  a  burden,  but  seldom 
a  heavy  one,  who  accosted  us  as  he  passed  with  a  "  Good  day, 
Massa,"  bowing  to  us  at  the  same  time,  with  an  air  of  stereotyped 
humility. 

Large  pic-nic  parties  frequently  proceed,  in  summer,  to  the  Falls, 
from  Washington,  Alexandria,  and  Georgetown.  It  is  not  unusual 
for  them  on  sucli  occasions,  to  hire  a  canal  packet-boat,  with  which 
they  proceed  comfortably  to  their  destination.  About  half-way  from 
town  we  met  one  of  them  drawn  by  two  horses  at  a  brisk  trot.  It 
was  well  filled  with  a  jocund  party,  for  we  could  hear  the  merry 
laugh  proceeding  from  the  cabin,  when  they  were  yet  some  distance 
from  us.  Several  of  the  young  men  were  on  deck,  dressed  in  loose 
summer  attire.  They  had  withdrawn  for  a  few  minutes  from  the 
presence  of  their  fair  companions,  to  enjoy  the  luxury  of  a  quid. 
They  were  discussing  the  merits  of"  Old  Rough  and  Ready,"  their 
animated  conversation  being  interrupted  only  by  their  expectorations 
into  the  canal.  We  observed  several  pretty  faces  peering  at  us 
through  the  small  cabin  windows,  and  fancied  that  their  owniers  pitied 
our  way-worn  appearance,  for  by  this  time  we  were  covered  Avith 
dust  and  perspiration. 

The  breeze  of  the  previous  day  had  died  aw^ay — the  sun  burnt 
like  a  fierce  flame  in  the  sky,  and  the  air  was  hot  and  sultry.  The 
canal  blazed  in  our  faces  like  a  sun-lit  mirror — the  grass  lay  parched 
and  motionless  on  the  ground,  and  the  leaves  hung  listless  from  flic 
boughs.  Every  insect  was  driven  into  the  shade,  and  not  a  bird 
ventured  on  the  wing. 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 


243 


«  We  shall  have  a  shower  before  night-fall,"  said  my  companion, 
wiping-  (lie  perspiration  from  his  forehead,  and  fanning  himself  with 
his  broad-brimmed  white  beaver. 

"  I  trust  none  of  your  thunder-storms  will  overtake  us  on  our 
way,"  observed  I. 

"  I  think  we  are  pretty  safe,"  said  he,  turning  round,  and  scanning 
with  his  eye  the  circuit  of  the  western  horizon.  We  have  now  but 
about  five  miles  to  walk,  and  there  is,  as  yet,  no  appearance  of  a 
cloud  in  the  sky." 

"  You  look  to  the  west,"  I  remarked:  "  do  your  thunder-storms 
always  proceed  from  that  quarter?" 

"  Invariably,"  replied  he. 

We  proceeded  for  a  mile  or  two  further,  our  strength  becoming 
rapidly  exhausted  under  the  burning  merciless  heat.  By-and-by  the 
dust  moved  a  little  in  advance  of  us,  and  the  glistening  surface  of  the 
canal  momentarily  darkened.  At  the  same,  time  a  low  murmuring 
sound  stole  gently  through  the  forest  on  our  left,  as  if  nature  had 
heaved  a  deep  sigh—the  leaves  trembling  at  the  same  time,  as  if  a 
slight  shudder  had  passed  over  the  woody  bank.  JNIy  friend  looked 
quickly  round. 

"  We  must  hurry,"  said  he,  "  or  we  shall  yet  be  caught." 

»'  I  see  no  indication  of  a  storm,"  said  I,  casting  ray  eye  over  the 
yet  unclouded  heavens. 

"  You  would  perceive  such  as  would  satisfy  you,"  said  he,  quick- 
ening his  pace,  "  but  for  the  high  bank,  which  now  screens  from  us 
many  degrees  of  the  western  sky.  See,"  added  he,  as  another 
slight  puff  of  air  disturbed  the  dust,  which  danced  in  little  eddies  at 
our  feet,  "  there  is  an  unmistakeable  herald  of  a  summer  shower." 

The  dome  of  the  Capitol  was  already  in  sight,  and  we  made  all 
haste  towards  the  town.  We  had  scarcely  reached  Georgetown  ere 
the  wind  came  in  fitful  gusts  from  behind  us,  lifting  up  the  dust,  and 
scattering  it,  as  it  were,  in  huge  handfuls  in  the  air.  By-and-by  a 
a  dense  black  curtain  of  clouds  rose  over  the  tree-tops  on  the  heights 
to  our  left,  and  advanced  wdth  rapid  yet  majestic  movement  towards 
the  zenith.  The  broad  estuary  of  the  Potomac  was  before  us,  and 
its  usually  yellow  surface  assumed  a  dark  brownish  hue,  in  reflect- 
ing the  now  angry  heavens.  The  lightning  at  first  flickered  faintly 
inlhe  distance,  but  grew  brighter  and  more  frequent  as  the  storm 
gained  upon  the  sky.  By  this  time  the  low  muttering  of  the  distant 
thunder  fell  without  interval  upon  our  ears,  as  if  the  tempest  were 
advancing  to  the  sound  of  music.  And  now  every  thing  in  nature 
seemed  still  as  death— every  leaf  around  us  appeared  to  pant  for  the 
coming  shower— the  cattle  stood  in  motionless  groups  in  the  neigh- 
bouring fields. 

We  had  passed  Georgetown  and  were  hurrying  as  fast  as  pos- 
sible to  Washington.     On  came  the  teeming  clouds,  swept  forward 


244  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

by  the  broezc,  ^vhich  now  set  in  steadily  from  the  westward  with  a 
fury  which  betokened  the  near  approach  of  the  catastroplie.  The 
heavens  seemed  now  and  then  enveloped  in  a  trellis-work  of  fire, 
and  the  thunder  came  in  choruses  from   the  bosom  of  the  tempest. 

We  had  to  make  our  way  through  whirlwinds  of  dust,  but  the 
flying-  sand  was  preferable  to  the  cominor  deluge.  My  rooms  were 
already  in  sight  when  the  first  monitory  drops  came  down  heavily. 
and  with  a  sort  of  greasy  flop,  into  the  hot  dust,  speckling  it  with 
dark  spots,  each  as  large  as  a  half-crown  piece.  There  was  no  time 
to  lose,  for  down  they  came  thicker  and  thicker,  and  we  took  to  our 
heels.  It  was  as  well  that  we  did  so ;  for  we  had  scarcely  gained 
shelter  ere  the  storm  descended  in  all  its  fury.  Down  came  the 
rain,  literally  in  streams,  throwing  the  dust  up  like  spray,  until  it 
had  fairly  saturated  it,  which  less  than  a  minute  sufliced  to  do. 
Every  now  and  then  its  downward  progress  was  stopped,  and  it 
was  carried  almost  horizontally  along,  and  dashed  in  whirling  eddies 
against  wall  and  window  by  the  fierce  wind.  The  strongest  trees 
bent  before  the  blast,  which  howled  through  their  branches,  as  it 
stripped  them  of  their  green  leaves,  and  tossed  them  wildly  in  the 
air.  All  this  time  the  vivid  lightning  was  playing  about  on  all 
hands  with  magnificent  pyrotechnic  effect,  not  falling  in  single 
flashes,  but  appearing  literally  to  rain  down,  the  tempest  seeming 
to  expend  itself  in  a  descending  deluge  of  fire  and  water.  The  air, 
too,  was,  as  it  were,  full  of  thunder,  which  sometimes  crackled  around 
us  like  the  leaping  flame,  which  is  devouring  every  thing  within  its 
reach,  then  broke  overhead  with  a  crash  as  if  a  thousand  ponderous 
beams  were  giving  way,  and  then  boomed  slowly  oft'  into  the  dis- 
tance, and  died,  grumbling  and  muttering  amid  the  watery  clouds. 

The  storm  had  not  continued  for  much  more  than  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  ere  the  whole  aspect  of  the  town  was  changed.  Many  of  the 
streets  which  before  were  laden  with  dust  were  now  completely 
submerged.  Pennsylvania-avenue  lies  low,  and  the  streets  which 
descend  upon  its  northern  side  poured  their  floods  upon  it  as  into  a 
reservoir.  Boats  might  now  have  sailed  where,  but  some  minutes 
before,  their  keels  would  have  been  buried  in  the  dust.  My  windows 
overlooked  a  broad  street  which  descended  into  the  avenue.  It 
looked  as  if  it  had  suddenly  been  converted  into  the  bed  of  some 
mountain  torrent;  the  water  dashing  along  in  sufficient  volume  to 
carry  off  several  large  beams  which  were  lying  at  a  little  distance, 
for  building  purposes,  on  the  road. 

Little  more  than  half  an  hour  had  elapsed  ere  the  storm  began  to 
give  way.  The  black  pall,  which  had  enveloped  the  heavens, 
seemed  gradually  to  ascend  iuto  upper  air,  and  in  doing  so  became 
broken  into  fragments,  which,  as  they  slowly  separated  from  each 
other,  were  illuminated  in  their  outlines  by  the  briirht  sunlight,  which 
shone  from  above  through  their  watery  fringes.     Piled  in  masses, 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  245 

one  upon  the  other,  the  heavy  clouds  rolled  away  to  the  eastward, 
their  dark  bosoms  still  gleaming  with  fire,  and  belching  forth  thun- 
der. The  storm  thus  passed  away  with  the  majesty  which  liad 
marked  its  approach,  leaving  the  sun  once  more  in  undisputed  pos- 
session of  the  sky.  But  the  face  of  nature  was  greatly  changed. 
It  no  longer  looked  languid  and  sickly;  all  was  now  cheerful  and 
glad,  and  Iresh-looking  as  the  nymph  from  the  fountain.  Tlie  frogs 
croaked  lustily  from  the  neighbouring  marshes,  and  the  birds  flew 
about  on  renovated  wing,  and  sang  merrily  on  the  boughs.  Vege- 
tation resumed  its  vigour;  the  foliage  on  the  trees  looked  doubly 
green ;  whilst  from  every  shrub  and  plant  the  pendant  rain-drops 
sparkled  like  so  many  diamonds.  The  air  was  pure  and  crisp;  for 
the  haze  which  before  pervaded  it,  seemed  to  have  been  literally 
washed  out,  and  through  its  clear  medium  the  Capitol  shone,  over 
the  rich  greenery  which  lay  beneath  it,  like  a  mass  of  alabaster,  sur- 
mounted by  a  dome  of  ebony.  But  the  streets  were  in  many  places 
ploughed  up  by  the  torrents  which  had  taken  temporary  possession 
of  them  ;  and  the  red  clayey  bank  of  the  Potomac  was  torn  into  still 
deeper  gullies.  Not  far  from  my  residence,  on  a  field  of  several 
acres  in  extent,  flourished,  before  the  storm,  a  crop  of  luxuriant 
wheat.  Having  a  gentle  declivity,  the  deluge  passed  over  it  wiili 
such  eflect  as  to  tear  both  wheat  and  soil  away,  exposing  a  cada- 
verous surface  of  cold  impassive  clay.  Many  of  the  cellars  in 
Pennsylvania-avenue  were  flooded,  and  much  valuable  property  was 
injured,  if  not  destroyed. 

Such  is  a  thunder  storm  in  these  regions.  An  Englishman's  ex- 
periences in  his  own  country  can  give  him  no  idea  of  its  terrific 
grandeur.  They  frequently  make  their  appearance  as  often  as  twice 
a  week,  during  the  burning  summer  months,  although  not  always 
with  the  severity  just  described:  the  climate  would  else  be  intole- 
rable. Their  refreshing  eflect,  after  some  days  of  parching  heat, 
may  be*readily  conceived.  Their  duration  is  brief,  but  they  are 
terrible  whilst  they  last,  particularly  when  they  occur  at  night,  when 
the  incessant  and  ubiquitous  lightning  seems  to  keep  the  whole 
atmosphere  in  a  blaze.  The  clouds  descend  and  appear  to  trail 
along  the  surface  of  the  ground,  and  earth  and  sky  seem  to  meet  in 
conflict,  whilst  all  the  elements  mingle  for  the  moment  in  one  ap- 
palling jumble  of  confusion  and  strife,  the  eff"ect  of  the  whole  scene 
being  infinitely  heightened  by  the  loud  and  continuous  rattling  of 
heaven's  artillery,  by  which  the  raging  tornado  is  saluted  in  its 
course. 


21* 


246  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


VIRGINIA. 


Last  Stroll  in  Washington. — The  Wharf. — A  Yankee. — Scenery  of  the  Poto- 
mac.— View  of  Washington  from  the  River. — Alexandria. — Mount  Vernon. — 
Washington's  Grave. — The  Aquia  Creek. — Railway  to  Richmond. — Fre- 
dericksburg.— Effects  of  Slavery. — Richmond. — The  State  Capital.  — Statue 
of  Washington.— Prospect  from  the  Portico  of  the  Capitol. — The  James  River 
and  its  Rapids. — Water  Power. — Manufactures  of  Richmond. — Tobacco 
Mart. — Tobacco  Manufactories. — Coal  and  Iron  Mines. — Sensitiveness  of 

the  people  of  Richmond. — Society  in  Richmond — Mr.  Rives Social  Life 

as  developed  in  Virginia,  the  type  of  Southern  Society. — Influence  of  the  Pro- 
perty system  of  the  South  on  its  social  development. — Country  Life  in  Vir- 
ginia.—A  Virginia  Table. — Universal  use  of  Indian  Corn  Bread.— Modes  of 
preparing  it. — Groundless  Prejudice  against  it  in  this  country. — Pride  of  An- 
cestry in  Virginia. — The  great  physical  Divisions  of  Virginia. — The  Central 
Valley. — The  Blue  Mountains. — Mineral  Springs  in  the  Valley. — The  Tide- 
water region. — Confederation  of  the  Continent  between  the  AUegheniesand 
the  Atlantic. 

It  was  towards  the  close  of  May,  on  a  sunny  and  brilliant  morn- 
ing, that  after  several  montlis'  residence  in  the  capital,  I  took  my 
departure  for  the  South.  Havincr  half-an-hour  to  spare,  I  strolled 
for  the  last  time  around  the  grounds  of  the  President's  house,  which 
were  contiguous  to  the  hotel.  In  doing  so,  I  soon  overtook  an 
elderly  man,  rather  slenderly  made,  about  the  middle  stature,  and 
with  a  slight  stoop  at  the  shoulders.  He  carried  a  gold-hca5ed  cane 
under  his  arm,  and  with  his  head  bent  upon  the  ground,  as  if  lost 
in  thought,  went  slowly  along  with  measured  pace,  seemingly  for- 
getful of  the  purpose  for  which  he  had  come  out,  which  was  evi- 
dently the  enjoyment  of  a  constitutional  walk  before  breakfast.  In 
passing  him,  I  saluted  the  President  of  the  United  States.  He 
seemed  as  if  roused  from  a  reverie  by  the  momentary  interruption. 
He  had  need  of  all  his  thoughts,  for  his  dispute  with  England  was 
still  unsettled,  and  the  first  blow  of  the  Mexican  war  had  already 
been  struck. 

The  steamboat  wharf  is  immediately  below  the  grreat  brido-e,  and 
about  a  mile  distant  from  the  town.  Thither  1  repaired  in  due  time, 
the  journey  southward  commencing  with  a  descent  of  the  Potomac 
for  forty  miles  by  steamer.  Half-a  dozen  negroes,  who  grinned  and 
chattered  at  each  other  incessantly,  were  busily  engaged  replenisii- 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  247 

ing  her  Stock  of  fuel  from  the  piles  of  cord-wood  which  encumbered 
the  wharf;  and  other  preparations  for  departure  were  still  going 
on  when  I  stepped  on  board  the  United  States  mail  steamer 
Powhatan. 

There  was  some  delay  in  starting,  during  which  I  occupied  my- 
self in  pacing  the  promenade  deck,  enjoying  the  bright  sunshine  and 
the  fresh  morning  air.  There  were  several  groups  of  loungers  on 
the  wharf,  who  seemed  to  take  a  deep  interest  in  all  that  was  going 
on,  whilst  there  were  others  who  took  an  interest  in  some  that  were 
going  off.  Apart  from  the  rest  was  one  whose  demeanour  and  atti- 
tude soon  attracted  my  attention.  In  leaning  against  a  post,  his  tall 
emaciated  figure  fell  into  a  number  of  indescribable  curves,  present- 
ing a  toift  ensemble  to  w^hich  nothing  can  compare,  that  I  am 
acquainted  with,  either  on  tlie  earth,  or  in  the  waters  under  the 
earth.  His  face  was  so  sunburnt  that  it  vied  in  brown  with  the  long, 
loose,  threadbare  frock-coat  which,  from  his  reclining  position,  hung 
perpendicularly  from  his  shoulders.  Deep  furrows  traversed  his 
sallow  cheek,  commencing  at  a  point  near  the  outer  corner  of  the 
eye,  and  diverging  as  they  dropped,  so  as  to  attain  a  broad  basis  on 
the  lower  jaw.  His  eyes,  which  were  deep-set,  were  very  small, 
the  pupil  being  of  a  light  gray,  in  a  yellow  setting.  In  his  hand 
was  a  large  clasp  knife,  with  which  he  was  whittling  to  a  very  fine 
point  a  piece  of  wood  which  he  had  sliced  from  the  post.  In 
this  occupation  he  appeared  absorbed;  but,  on  closely  watching 
him,  you  could  see  that  from  under  his  matted  eyebrows  he  was 
looking  at  every  body  and  observing  every  thing.  Save  in  the 
movement  of  his  hands,  he  gave  little  outward  symptom  of  life;  but 
not  a  movement  escaped  his  restless  glance.  He  was  a  thorough 
type  of  the  genuine  Yankee,  concealing  much  curiosity,  cunning, 
and  acuteness  beneath  a  cold  impassive  exterior.  I  watched  him 
still  occupying  the  same  attitude  for  some  time  after  we  had  put 
off,  and  it  Was  not  until  every  one  else  had  disappeared  from  the 
wharf,  that  he  uncoiled  himself  and  walked  moodily  away. 

The  cause  of  our  detention  was  the  non-arrival  of  the  Governor  of 
Virginia,  who  it  seemed  was  to  be  a  fellow-passenger.  His  Excel- 
lency at  length  appeared,  panting  and  breathless,  and,  on  stepping 
aboard,  was  told  by  the  captain  that  the  next  time  he  was  late  he 
would  have  to  find  a  boat  of  his  own. 

The  sail  down  the  Potomac  is  interesting  and  beautiful.  On  a 
summer  morning,  when  the  sky  is  without  a  cloud,  and  the  breeze 
is  yet  fresh  and  bracing,  the  broad  and  lively  expanse  of  the  river, 
stretching  in  some  places  for  miles  across,  flashes  like  silver  in  the 
slanting  sunlight,  whilst  the  luxuriant  verdure  which  clothes  the 
long  terraced  slopes  on  either  side  of  it,  sweeps  down  to  its  very 
edge,  until  bush,  tree,  and  waving  grass,  seem  all  afloat  upon  the 
water.     Here  and  there,  too,  the  bank,  on  either  side,  is  indented 


248  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

by  small  tortuous  bays,  which  straggle  up  into  the  land,  until  they 
lose  themselves  amid  labyrinths  of  greenery,  and  beneath  arcades  of 
the  richest  foliage.  As  the  day  advances,  a  slight  haze  gathers  over 
the  scene,  whicii  confuses  its  outHne  and  gives  it  an  indistinct, 
dreamy  look.  The  whole  way  from  Washington  to  its  junction 
with  Chesapeake  Bay,  the  Potomac  presents  the  tourist  with  a  suc- 
cession of  pictures,  which  in  their  characteristics  are  purely  Ameri- 
can. You  have  land  and  water,  the  universal  elements  of  landscape, 
but  difierently  distributed  from  what  we  are  accustomed  to  in  Europe. 
The  river  is  so  lordly  and  spacious,  and  forms  so  great  a  feature  in 
the  scene,  that  the  whole  looks  like  a  vast  mirror  set  in  a  frame- 
work of  elaborate  beauty.  In  addition  to  its  scenic  attractions,  a 
sail  on  the  Potomac  brings  the  traveller  in  contact  with  many  spots 
of  considerable  historic  interest. 

Washington  should  always  be  approached  from  the  river,  for  it 
presents  from  it  a  most  imposing  appearance.  When  first  seen,  in 
ascending  the  Potomac,  the  city  appears  to  encircle,  in  the  distance, 
the  head  of  a  spacious  and  noble  bay.  Whilst  the  eye  is  yet  inca- 
pable of  distinguishing  its  scattered  character,  or  discerning  the 
many  gaps  which  intervene  between  its  different  parts,  the  stranger 
is,  for  the  moment,  from  the  vast  extent  of  ground  which  it  appears 
to  cover,  cheated  into  the  idea  that  it  is  worthy  its  destiny  as  the 
capital  of  a  great  nation,  an  illusion  which  speedily  vanislies  on  a 
nearer  approach.  To  the  right  the  Capitol  is  seen  looming  up  over 
every  other  object;  to  the  left,  w^ith  the  bulk  of  the  town  between 
them,  is  the  Executive  mansion,  its  white  mass  being  relieved  against 
the  dark  green  body  of  the  uplands  beyond,  which  in  their  amphi- 
theatric  sweep  form  a  back  ground  to  the  picture;  whilst  still  further 
to  the  left  is  the  suburb  of  Georgetown,  crowniing  its  little  height, 
and  nesded  amid  bowers  and  foliage,  like  a  very  glimpse  from 
Arcadia.  Tliis  view  goes  far  to  reconcile  one,  after  all,  to  Washing- 
ton. I  watched  it  from  the  stern  of  the  boat,  until  we  doubled  a  point 
on  the  Maryland  side,  which  shut  the  scene  slowly  from  my  view. 

Our  first  stopping-place  was  Alexandria,  seven  miles  below  AVash- 
ington,  and  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river;  a  small  town  much 
older  than  the  capital,  of  which  it  is  the  seaport.  It  has  a  quaint 
and  antique  look  about  it,  considering  where  it  is,  its  origin  dating 
f:ir  back  into  the  colonial  era  of  Virginia.  Until  1846,  it  formed 
part  and  parcel  of  the  district  of  Columbia;  but  in  that  year  it  was 
re-ceded,  together  with  the  \vhole  of  that  part  of  the  district  which 
lay  to  the  south  of  the  Potomac,  to  the  state  of  Virginia.  The  "ten 
miles  square,"  therefore,  no  longer  exists,  the  district  being  now  con- 
fined to  an  irregular  triangle  on  the  Maryland  side  of  the  river. 

Some  distance  further  down,  we  passed  Fort  AVashington,  one  of 
tlie  defences  of  the  capital,  occupying  a  commanding  position  on  tlu; 
Maryland  bank,  opposite  a  point  where  the  navigable  channel  of  the 


THE   WESTFRN   WORLD.  ^49 

river  is  ratlirr  nnrrow  niul  lortiioiis.  On  ihc  opposite  sido,  in  Air- 
ginia,  and  about  fourteen  miles  below  the  city,  is  Mount  Vernon,  for 
some  years  the  residence,  and  still  the  burial-place  of  Washington. 
It  is  a  very  beautiful  spot;  the  house  in  which  the  immortal  patriot 
closed  his  eventful  career  crowninjr  ihe  summit  of  a  gentle  acclivity 
which  rises  from  tlie  water,  and  commands  within  its  prospect  on 
either  side  a  lon^  reach  of  the  river.  No  American  ever  passrs  it 
without  doing  reverence  to  it  as  a  hallowed  spot.  When  near  the 
other  side,  or  in  the  middle  of  the  stream,  it  can  only  be  distinctly 
seen  by  the  aid  of  a  glass.  We  passed  very  close  to  it,  and  the  Hutchin- 
son family  being  on  board  on  a  professional  tour,  they  came  on  deck, 
and  sung  "  W^ashinglon's  Grave."  The  eflect  was  good,  for  the 
melody  is  touching,  and  the  majority  of  the  audience  were  enthusiasts. 

Our  point  of  debarkation  was  the  Aquia  Creek,  a  small  stream 
which  empties  itself  into  the  Potomac  on  the  Virginia  side,  about 
forty  miles  below  the  city.  Here  the  river  attains  a  colossal  magni- 
tude, which  it  still  enhances  during  the  remainder  of  its  course  to  the 
ocean. 

From  tliis  point,  the  journey  to  Richmond,  which  is  about  eighty 
miles,  is  performed  by  railway.  As  the  line  is  but  a  single  one,  we 
liad  to  await,  before  proceeding,  the  arrival  of  the  up-train.  It  was 
not  long  ere  it  came  cautiously  up,  stopping  only  when  it  got  to  the 
very  end  of  the  wharf,  the  passengers  by  it  immediately  taking  our 
steamer  for  Washinirton,  whilst  we  took  their  carriages  for  Kich- 
mond.  I  thought  the  mail  agent  would  have  been  torn  to  pieces  by 
my  fellow-passengers  from  the  city,  in  their  eagerness  to  extract  from 
him  the  latest  news  from  the  South.  The  Mexican  war  was  the  all- 
exciting  topic,  and  they  were  quite  disappointed  at  learning  that  the 
Mexicans  had  disappeared  from  the  Rio  Grande,  and  were  not  likely 
again  to  be  heard  of,  for  some  lime  at  least. 

Amongst  those  who  arrived  by  the  train  from  Richmond,  was  a 
western  farmer  and  his  family,  evidently  on  a  summer  tour. 

*' Father,"  said  his  son,  an  intelligent  litde  boy,  after  looking  for  a 
few  moments  at  the  broad  expanse  of  the  river,  "it's  as  big  as  the 
Miss'sippi." 

"And  as  yaller  too,"  was  the  reply. 

"But  we  don't  have  no  snajrs  nor  alligators  here,  mv  little  man; 
nor  do  we  blow  up  two  or  three  liundred  people  at  a  time,"  said  ii 
Viriiinian  in  shirt-sleeves,  who  was  doing  duty  in  some  capacity  or 
other,  on  the  wharf,  and  who,  hearing  the  boy's  remark,  was  anxious 
that  he  should  not  go  misinformed  upon  the  points  wherein  the  Poto- 
mac had  the  superiority  over  any  and  every  river  in  the  West. 

"Cos  you  can't  get  up  steam  enough  in  Virginny  to  blow  up  an 
e£rg-shell,"  retorted  the  boy,  discerning  his  informant's  intention,  and 
by  no  means  satisfied  with  it;  for  which  he  was  infornjed  by  the 
latter,  that   he  was  "too  smart  by  half,  if  he  only  know'd  it,"    and 


250  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

that  to  a  moral  certaintv,  his  fatlicr  "must   have   many  more   like 
him." 

About  an  hour  after  leaving  the  Potomac,  we  reached  the  small 
town  of  Fredericksburg,  one  of  the  seaports  of  Virginia,  situated  on 
the  R:ippahannock  River.  We  made  a  short  stay  here,  for  no  earthly 
purpose,  as  it  appeared  to  me,  but  to  enable  the  passengers  to  buy 
gingerbread,  which  was  handed  about  in  enormous  triangles,  and  pur- 
chased by  sucli  as  were  already  beginning  to  famish. 

Whence  comes  it  that  the  moment  the  stranger  puts  his  foot  in 
•^Virginia,  he  seems  to  have  passed  to  an  entirely  new  scene  of  action? 
Is  it  prejudice,  or  preconceived  opinion,  that  leads  him  to  think  that 
every  thing  around  him  wears  a  spiritless  and  even  dilapidated  as- 
pect? Or  is  it  that  he  sees  aright,  through  no  misguiding  medium, 
and  that  there  is  a  cause  for  the  change  that  so  suddenly  forces  itself 
upon  his  observation  ?  It  requires  no  anti-slavery  predilections,  no 
jaundiced  eye,  no  European  prejudices,  to  recognise  the  two  states 
of  activity  and  inertness  between  which  the  Potomac  intervenes,  like 
an  impassable  gulf.  The  southerner  himself,  born  and  bred  in  the 
lap  of  slavery,  cannot  fail  to  distinguish  the  distance  which  separates 
the  North  from  the  South  in  the  career  of  material  improvement.  Be 
the  causes  for  this  what  they  may,  its  existence  is  incontestable.  The 
change,  indeed,  commences  still  further  north,  on  crossing  the  frontier 
of  Maryland ;  but  bordering,  as  that  State  does,  upon  the  free  com- 
munity of  Pennsylvania,  it  has  become  more  or  less  inoculated  with 
the  activity  which  distinguishes  it.  It  is  only  when  the  traveller 
passes  the  Virginian  border  that  he  becomes  thoroughly  aware  of  the 
difference,  as  regards  enterprise  and  activity,  which  exists  between  the 
free  and  the  slave  States.  I  am  quite  aware  that  the  traveller  by  this, 
the  main  route  to  the  South,  is  not  carried  through  the  better  portion  of 
Virginia.  I  now  speak  not  from  impressions  formed  on  the  railway, 
but  from  the  convictions  M'hicli  have  attached  themselves  to  my  miiul 
after  thoroughly  traversing  the  State.  As  compared  with  some  of  its 
neighbours,  the  whole  State  seems  to  be  afflicted  with  some  ineradi- 
cable blight.  In  the  North,  such  is  the  enterprise  and  such  the  in- 
dustry which  prevail, — such  is  the  restless  activity  which  is  ever 
manifest,  and  such  the  progress,  not  gradual,  but  precipitate,  which  is 
constantly  being  made,  that  the  stranger  may  almost  fancy  that  the 
scene  on  which  he  opens  his  eyes  in  the  morning  is  different  from 
that  on  which  he  closed  them  the  preceding  night.  But  let  him  pass 
into  Virginia,  and  the  transition  is  as  great  as  is  the  change  from  the 
activity  of  Lancashire,  to  the  languor  and  inertness  of  Bavaria.  Even 
amongst  the  southern  States,  Virginia  is  pre-eminently  torpid.  In  the 
midst  of  progress  she  is  stationary — stationary  even  in  her  popula- 
tion, with  the  exception  of  the  negro  portion  of  it.  And  yet  no  New- 
Knglander  is  so  proud  of  his  native  State  as  the  Virginian  is  of  his. 
He  never  permits  a  doubt  to  cross  his  mind  but  that  she  is  the  first 


/ 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  251 

Star  in  the  federal  constellation.  It  matters  not  that  you  direct  his 
attention  to  decaying  towns  and  backward  cultivation,  you  cannot 
divorce  him  from  his  dehisive  but  flattering  conviction.  In  1776  she 
may  have  been  the  first  amongst  the  revolutionary  colonies.  The 
Virginian  thinks  of  Virginia  as  she  was  then,  not  as  she  is  now;  he 
forgets  the  prodigious  strides  wliich  many  of  the  sister  States  have 
taken  since  that  period;  and  in  his  self-complacency  overlooks  the 
f\\ct  that  she  is  more  indebted  for  the  slight  advances  which  she  hasy 
made,  to  her  incapacity  altogether  to  resist  the  general  momentum, 
than  to  the  enterprise  'and  activity  of  her  sons.  How  far  the  blot 
which  rests  on  her  social  and  political  escutcheon  is  answerable  for 
this,  will  be  afterwards  considered. 

Richmond,  the  capital  of  Virginia,  is  a  small,  but  certainly  a  very 
pretty  town,  if  its  people  ^vould  only  content  themselves  with  having 
it  so.  It  is  a  weakness  of  theirs  to  be  constantly  making  the  largest 
possible  drafts  upon  the  admiration  of  the  visiter,  by  extorting  his 
assent  to  the  fidelity  of  comparisons  which  would  be  amongst  the 
very  last  to  suggest' themselves  to  his  own  mind.  He  is  reminded, 
for  instance,  that  the  prospect  which  it  commands  is  very  like  the 
view  obtained  from  the  battlements  of  Windsor  Castle ;  and  to  those 
who  have  never  been  at  Windsor,  or  who,  having  been  there,  have 
never  seen  Richmond,  the  comparison  may  certainly  hold  good ;  but 
such  as  have  seen  both  are  far  more  indebted  to  their  imagination 
than  to  the  reality  for  the  resemblance.  He  is  also  given  to  under- 
stand that  it  occupies  more  hills  than  imperial  Rome  ever  sat  upon; 
and  if  the  number  of  hills  on  which  the  capital  rested  was  an  essen; 
tial  element  of  Roman  greamess,  this  is  one  way  of  proving  Rich- 
mond superior  to  Rome. 

But  notwithstanding  these  excusable  partialities,  Richmond  is  a 
beautiful  place.  There  is  a  high  and  a  low  town  ;  the  former  crown- 
ing the  summit  of  an  abrupt  sandy  bank,  which  hems  in  the  latter 
between  it  and  the  northern  margin  of  the  James  River,  a  stream  so 
justly  celebrated  in  the  early  colonial  history  of  the  continent.  The 
town  itself  has  not  much  to  recommend  it,  consisting  as  it  does  of 
one  good  street  and  a  number  of  indifferent  ones.  The  portion  of 
it  between  the  main  street  and  the  river,  in  which  the  wholesale 
business  is  chiefly  transacted,  reminds  one  very  much,  in  closeness 
and  dinginess,  of  the  neighbourhood  of  Watling-street  or  Blackfriars. 
It  is  in  its  adjuncts  that  the  beauty  of  Richmond  is  to  be  sought  and 
found;  its  suburbs  in  the  upper  town  being  both  elegant  and  airy, 
and  the  view  obtained  from  them  by  no  means  uninteresting.  The 
best  point,  perhaps,  from  which  to  ascertain  the  position  of  Rich- 
mond, is  the  portico  of  the  Capitol,  a  plain,  unpretending  building, 
which  overhangs  the  lower  town.  It  contains  within  its  walls, 
however,  one  of  the  finest,  and  decidedly  the  most  interesting^,  of  the 
specimens  of  art  in  America.     In  its  principal  lobby  is  a  full-length 


252 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 


marble  statue  of  Wasliington ;  not  in  the  garb  of  tlic  warrior,  but  in  the 
plain  costume  of  the  country  gentleman,  with  hi^  staff  in  his  hand, 
instead  of  his  sword  by  his  side.  It  is  the  most  faithful  portrait  of 
the  incorruptible  patriot  of  which  the  country  is  possessed,  the  features 
beintr  modelled  from  a  cast  taken  of  him  durinir  life.  Time  and 
again  did  I  return  to  gaze  at  that  placid  face,  that  mild  yet  intelligent 
expression,  that  serene  yet  thoughtful  brow.  No  portrait  or  bust 
that  1  had  ever  before  seen  had  conveyed  to  me  an  idea  of  Washing- 
ion  which  satisfied  me.  But  there  he  was  to  the  life,  just  as  he  ap- 
peared to  his  contemporaries  after  the  turmoil  of  the  great  contest 
was  over,  in  which  he  played  so  important  and  honourable  a  part. 
I  never  think  of  Washington  now  without  picturing  him  as  repre- 
sented by  that  marble  statue. 

From  the  portico  the  scene  is  both  extensive  and  varied.  In  the 
immediate  foreground  is  the  town,  the  greater  portion  of  which  is 
so  directly  underneath  you  that  it  almost  seems  as  if  you  could  leap 
into  it.  Before  you  is  the  James  River,  tumbling  in  snowy  masses 
over  successive  ledges  of  rock,  its  channel  being  divided  by  several 
islands,  which  are  shrouded  in  foliage,  and  imbedded  in  foaming 
rapids.  To  the  south  of  the  river,  an  extensive  vista  opens  up, 
spreading  far  to  the  right  and  left,  cleared  in  some  places,  but, 
generally  speaking,  mantled  in  the  most  luxuriant  vegetation.  The 
scene  is  one  over  which  the  stranger  may  well  linger,  particularly 
on  a  bright  summer's  day,  when  his  cheek  is  fanned  by  the  cooling 
breezes,  which  come  gaily  skipping  from  the  distant  Alleghenies, 
carrying  the  fragrant  perfume  of  the  magnolia  and  the  honeysuckle 
on  their  wings,  and  his  spirit  is  soothed  by  the  incessant  murmur  of 
the  rapids,  which,  from  the  height  at  which  he  stands,  steals  gently 
to  his  ear. 

The  site  of  Richmond  was  selected  chiefly  with  a  view  to  the 
water  power  which  is  afforded  it  by  the  rapids  of  the  James.  These 
commence  a  considerable  distance  above  the  city,  and  terminate  im- 
mediately in  front  of  it.  The  fall  which  thus  g-radually  takes  place 
in  the  channel  of  the  river,  is  altoo^ether  about  eightv  feet,  the  formation 
of  the  banks  on  either  side  being  such  as  to  render  the  great  power 
thus  afforded  perfectly  available.  It  has,  as  yet,  been  but  partially 
taken  advantage  of.  Opposite  the  city,  on  the  southern  bank,  is  the 
small  village  of  Manchester,  aspiring,  I  suppose,  to  that  name,  from 
the  fact  of  its  comprising  two  cotton  factories,  which,  indeed,  with 
their  adjuncts,  form  its  sum  total.  It  is  approached  from  Richmond 
by  means  of  bridges  tlirown  across  the  rapids  from  the  mainland 
on  either  side,  to  the  islands;  but  the  (diief  industry  of  the  spot  is 
centred  in  tlie  city  itself,  wiiich  derives  its  water  power  from  the 
basin  of  the  James  River,  and  Kanawha  canal,  designed  to  unite 
the  Virginian  sea-board  with  the  great  valley  of  the  West.  The 
C-inal  is  here  fed  from  the  upper  level  of  the  river,  and  as  it  ap- 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  "  253 

proaches  the  town,  the  difference  of  level  between  it  and  the  falling 
stream  becomes  greater  and  greater,  until  at  length  a  fall  of  eiglity 
feet  is  obtained  from  the  canal  basin  to  the  river.  Here  the  water 
may  be  easily  used  three  times  over  in  changing  its  level;  a  litde 
further  up  it  can  only  be  used  twice,  and  still  further  up  again,  only 
once.  As  yet  fully  three-fourths  of  the  power  thus  available  is  un- 
employed. The  manufactures  of  Richmond  are  various,  com- 
prising woollen  and  cotton  goods,  tobacco  factories,  and  some  very 
large  iron  and  steel  works;  but  its  chief  feature  in  this  respect  is 
the  manufacture  of  Hour,  the  largest  flour-mills  in  the  United  States 
being  found  here,  one  of  which,  when  in  full  play,  can  turn  out 
from  750  to  1,000  barrels  of  flour  per  day.  It  is  from  Richmond 
that  the  South  American  market  is  chiefly  supplied  with  this  neces- 
sary of  life ;  the  wheat  of  V^irginia,  when  ground,  being  better  adapted 
for  tropical  voyages  than  the  produce  of  any  other  part  of  the  country, 
including  Ohio  and  Genesee  wheat. 

Richmond  is  also  one  of  the  first  tobacco  markets  of  the  country, 
the  produce  of  the  State  being  concentrated  upon  it  both  for  export 
and  manufacture.  The  tobacco,  after  having  been  dried,  as  it  now  is, 
chiefly  in  the  fields,  is  closely  packed  into  hogsheads,  in  which  state 
it  is  forwarded  to  Richmond,  where  such  portion  of  it  (the  greater) 
as  cannot  be  disposed  of  by  private  sale  is  stored  in  public  ware- 
houses, to  await  the  auction  sales,  which  take  place  within  certain 
hours  of  the  day.  When  a  hogshead  is  to  be  put  up,  it  is  unhooped, 
and  the  compact  mass,  as  yet  but  raw  material,  exposed  to  view. 
One  of  the  inspectors  on  duty,  then,  by  means  of  a  crow-bar,  forcibly 
separates  it  in  three  different  places,  from  which  a  few  leaves  are 
taken  to  form  the  sample  of  the  bulk,  which  is  then  sold  according  to 
its  quality  as  thus  ascertained.  The  staves  are  then  put  together 
again,  the  hogshead  receives  the  purchaser's  mark,  and  it  is  left  in 
store  until  he  chooses  to  take  it  away.  The  quantity  of  tobacco 
which  is  thus  sometimes  accumulated  upon  Richmond,  is  only  ex- 
ceeded by  that  which  is  generally  to  be  found  in  bond  at  the  London 
Docks. 

Much  of  the  tobacco  thus  disposed  of  is  purchased  for  local  manu- 
facture, Richmond  containing  several  large  establishments  for  the 
conversion  of  the  crude  tobacco  into  a  form  fit  for  chewing.  Over 
the  most  extensive  of  these  I  was  kindly  piloted  by  one  of  the  owners, 
where  I  witnessed  all  the  processes  which  the  weed  underwent  in  its 
passage  from  dry  leaves  to  the  marketable  shape  of  Cavendish  tobacco, 
in  which  form  it  was  packed  in  small  cakes,  in  oblong  boxes,  labelled 
with  the  seductive  name  of  "  Honeydew."  In  all  the  departments 
of  the  factory  the  laliour  was  performed  by  slaves,  superintended  by 
white  overseers.  They  appeared  to  be  very  contented  at  their  work, 
although  the  utmost  silence  was  observed  amongst  them,  except 
within  certain  hours  of  the  day,  when  they  were  permitted  to  relieve 
VOL.  1. — 22 


254  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

their  toil  by  singing,  performing  a  succession  of  solos,  duets,  giees^ 
&('-.,  &e.,  in  a  way  that  was  truly  surprising,  considering  that  they 
were  entirely  self-taught.  Having  heard  them  sing,  I  was  permitted 
to  see  them  eat;  their  noon-day  meal  consisting  of  corn-bread  and 
beef;  the  males  and  females  occupying  different  apartments,  and  each 
appearing  to  have  as  much  to  eat  as  he  or  she  could  possibly  enjoy. 
The  factory  was  so  complete  as  to  be  provided  even  with  its  own 
tailor,  who  was  engaged,  whilst  I  was  there,  in  cutting  out  the  sum- 
mer suits  of  the  workmen,  from  thick  cotton  cloth,  tolerably  well 
bleached,  and  of  a  close  and  by  no  means  very  coarse  texture. 

In  a  street  contiguous  to  the  public  warehouses,  I  encountered  piles 
of  boxes  filled  with  a  very  coarse  liquorice,  and  which  were  being  dis- 
posed of  in  lots  by  auction.  The  liquorice  was  purchased  that  it 
might  be  mixed  with  a  portion  of  the  tobacco,  in  the  process  of  its 
manufacture,  the  poison  being  thus  sweetened,  to  render  it  palatable 
to  the  uninitiated. 

The  neighbourhood  of  Richmond  is  rich  in  mineral  resources. 
The  coal  strata  are  not  only  abundant,  but  in  some  places  approach 
so  near  the  surface  as  to  be  worked  at  but  little  cost.  The  largest 
coal  company  is  that  called  the  English  company;  the  coal,  when 
raised,  being  carried  from  its  pits,  by  means  of  a  private  railway,  to 
the  port  of  Richmond,  a  few  miles  below  the  city,  whence  it  is  shipped 
to  the  different  markets  of  the  Union.  There  is  also  a  good  deal 
of  iron  in  the  vicinity;  but  either  from  the  difficulty  of  mining  it,  or 
from  the  hold  which  English  and  Pennsylvania  iron  has  got  of  the 
market,  it  is  as  yet  but  little  worked. 

The  people  of  Richmond  are  a  peculiar  people.  They  are  proud 
and  sensitive  to  a  degree.  They  are  proud,  in  the  first  place,  of  their 
State,  and  in  the  next,  of  its  capital;  in  addition  to  which,  they  are 
not  a  little  satisfied  with  the  moral  superiorities  to  which  they  lay 
claim.  Their  code  of  honour  is  so  exceedingly  strict  that  it  requires 
the  greatest  circumspection  to  escape  its  violation.  An  offence  w^hich 
elsewhere  would  be  regarded  as  of  homeopathic  proportions,  is  very 
apt  to  assume  in  Richmond  the  gravity  of  colossal  dimensions  ;  even 
a  coolness  between  parties  is  dangerous,  as  having  a  fatal  tendency 
speedily  to  ripen  into  a  deadly  feud.  Once  arrived  at  this  point,  a 
personal  encounter  is  inevitable,  unless,  to  avoid  it,  one  party  or  the 
other  is  induced  to  quit  the  city.  It  is  curious  enough  to  witness  the 
cool  and  matter-of-course  way  in  which  even  the  ladies  will  speculate 
upon  the  necessities  for,  and  the  probabilities  of,  a  hostile  meeting 
between  such  and  such  parties,  and  in  which,  when  they  hear  of  a 
duel,  they  will  tell  you  that  they  long  foresaw  it,  and  that  it  could 
not  be  avoided.  After  all,  this  state  of  things,  althoujih  it  may  indicate 
less  of  a  healthy  habit  than  of  a  morbid  sensibility,  gives  to  Richmond 
society  a  chivalrous  and  romantic  cast,  which  is  rarely  to  be  met  with 
in  matter-of-fact  America.     It  is  seldom,  indeed,  that  they  imitate,  in 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 


2'jo 


their  personal  warfare,  the  savage  brutalities  of  the  south-western 
States;  their  quarrels,  generally  speaking,  taking  some  time  to  mature, 
and  the  parties,  when  the  day  of  reckoning  at  length  comes,  fighting 
like  gentlemen,  instead  of  like  tigers  or  hyenas. 

The  society  of  Richmond  adds  the  warmth  and  fervour  of  the  south 
to  that  frank  and  ready  hospitality  which  is  characteristic  of  American 
society  in  general.  It  is  rarely  that  the  stranger,  in  his  social  contact 
with  tiie  Americans,  has  to  encounter  the  frigid  influences  of  formalism. 
In  Virginia,  convention  is,  perhaps,  more  than  any  w  here  else  sub- 
jugated by  the  heart.  It  is  astonishing  how  soon  each  party  in  an 
assembly  appears  in  his  or  her  real  character.  Entering  a  drawing- 
room  at  Richmond  is  like  entering  a  theatre  with  the  curtain  up,  when 
there  is  no  ugly,  green-baize  screen  between  you,  the  scenery,  and 
the  performers.  In  no  other  place  has  it  ever  appeared  to  me  that 
life  was  so  little  disfigured  by  masquerade.  The  thoughts  are  ac- 
corded a  freedom  of  utterance,  which  is  never  abused,  and  dislikes 
and  partialities  come  equally  to  the  surface;  the  one  not  being 
smothered,  the  other  not  concealed.  He  must  look  into  himself  for 
the  cause,  who  does  not  feel  himself  at  once  at  home  with  his  frank 
and  hospitable  friends.  The  ladies  of  Richmond  partake  of  that  easy 
grace,  the  causes  of  which,  as  a  characteristic  of  Virginian  society,  I 
shall  presently  trace. 

At  an  evening  party,  w^hich  I  had  the  pleasure  of  attending,  it  v\'as 
my  good  fortune  to  meet  with  Mr.  W.  C.  Rives,  for  many  years  one 
of  the  representatives  of  Virginia  in  the  Senate  of  the  United  States, 
and  for  some  time  American  Minister  at  Paris.  I  found  him  to  be  a 
man  of  liberal  views  and  varied  information.  As  a  politician,  how- 
ever, he  is  now  regarded  as  somewhat  passe,  having  differed  with  his 
own  party  without  receiving  any  cordial  welcome  from  the  Whigs. 
When  I  met  him,  he  was  gradually  yielding  to  the  seductive  influences 
of  Mr.  Abbot  Lawrence,  the  prince  of  manufacturers  and  protectionists 
in  America,  who  had  recently  addressed  to  him  several  letters,  in  favour 
of  a  high  tariff,  through  the  columns  of  the  newspapers,  with  a  view, 
if  possible,  to  enlisting  the  sympathies  of  Virginia  in  favour  of  pro- 
tection. Mr.  Lawrence  was,  at  that  very  time,  in  Richmond,  which, 
as  the  chief  seat  of  Virginian  manufacture,  he  was  striving  to  convert 
to  the  proliibitory  doctrines  of  New  England. 

As  already  intimated,  American  society  has  a  peculiar  development 
in  Virginia.  The  social  svstem  is  there  beset  with  influences  which 
in  most  parts  of  the  country  are  unknown,  and  some  of  which  are 
but  partially  experienced  in  others.  Not  that  the  manitestation  of 
society  which  obtains  in  Virginia  is  exclusively  confined  to  that  State, 
for  most  of  its  social  characteristics  are  common  to  some  of  the  ad- 
jacent States,  particularly  to  Maryland  and  South  Carolina.  In  its 
peculiarities  therefore,  in  this  respect,  Virginia  is  not  to  be  regarded 
as  the  sole  exception  to  the  general  tenor  of  American  society.     It 


256  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

is  at  once  the  type  and  the  most  striking  specimen  of  ihe  socini  de- 
velopment peculiar  to  the  slave-holding  Slates  of  the  Atlantic  sea- 
board; and  it  is  only  as  illustrative  of  such  that  I  have  here  particu- 
larly alluded  to  the  more  distinctive  features  of  Virtjinian  society. 

'I'he  division  of  property  in  Virginia  is  totally  ditl'erent  from  that 
■Nvhich  prevails  in  the  northern  and  north-western  Stales.  In  the 
latter  it  is  very  rarely  that  one  meets  with  great  accumulations  of 
landed  property  in  the  hands  of  a  single  individual  or  family.  The 
system  of  land  tenures  is  adverse  to  such  accumulations;  as  it  is 
indeed  in  Virginia,  so  far  as  statutory  enactments  are  concerned;  but 
these  enactments  are  controlled  by  other  circumstances,  which  go  far 
to  counteract  their  operation.  In  the  north  and  north-west,  largelanded 
estates  are  the  rare  exception;  in  Virginia  they  are  the  rule.  Both 
in  the  one  case  and  in  the  other,  the  same  general  principle  may  be 
recognised  as  prevailing — that  no  one  should  occupy  more  land  than 
lie  can  cultivate;  but,  from  the  diversity  of  social  and  political  insti- 
tutions, this  principle  does  not,  in  the  two  instances,  lead  to  the  same 
results.  Throughout  the  whole  north  and  north-west,  where  the 
frame  is  hardy,  where  the  climate  invites  to  work,  where  the  com- 
petition is  great  and  the  people  are  inured  to  toil,  where  slavery  does 
not  exist  ?Jld  labour  is  not  considered  as  dishonourable,  the  land  is 
divided  into  small  holdings,  few  possessing  more  than  they  can  oc- 
cupy and  cultivate.  But  in  Virginia  and  the  adjacent  States  the  case 
is  very  dilTerent;  the  land  being  there  parcelled  ofl' into  large  estates, 
called  plantations,  consisting,  in  many  cases,  of  tens  of  thousands  of 
acres.  In  the  real  property  system  of  these  States,  the  Revolution 
has,  practically,  wrought  but  very  little  change.  The  estate  of  a 
Virginian  landlord  is,  in  some  of  its  features,  very  closely  assimilated 
to  an  Eniilish  manor.  The  transatlantic  proprietor  has  certainly  none 
of  the  political  or  judicial  prerogatives  of  his  English  prototype;  but, 
in  all  other  respects,  he  exercises  the  same  control  over  his  property 
as  the  lord  exercises,  or  was  wont  to  exercise,  over  the  demesne 
lands  of  the  manor.  In  the  most  convenient  part  of  the  estate  is 
generally  to  be  found  the  manor-house,  and,  with  the  exception  of 
his  family  and  his  guests,  all  who  live  upon  it  are  the  vassals  or  slaves 
of  the  proprietor.  Each  estate,  too,  has  its  appropriate  name,  as  is 
the  case  in  England;  but  this  is  very  ditlerent  from  the  principle 
which  obtains  in  the  north,  where  each  man's  property  is  known  as 
such  and  such  a  lot,  in  such  and  such  a  division,  of  such  and  such  a 
township.  In  short,  the  real  property  system  of  Virginia  is  the 
closest  approximation  to  that  which,  until  a  very  recent  period,  was 
BO  generally  prevalent  in  England,  of  any  that  is  to  be  found  in  the 
United  Stales. 

The  influence  which  this  exercises  upon  society  is  great  and  stri- 
kingly perceptible.  It  is  almost  impossible,  in  civilizcul  life,  to  find 
iwo^'states  of  being  more  in  contrast  witii  each  other  than  those  of 


I 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  2-57 

tlie  landed  proprietors  of  tlie  north  and  south.     It  is  rarely  tliat  the 
former  is  not  found  personally  occupied  in  the  cultivation  of  his  own 
lot  or  piece  of  ground.     Tlie  latter  is  wholly  unaccustomed  to  la- 
bour, and,  not  unfrequently,  delejiates  to  others  the  business  even 
of  superintending  the  affairs  of  his  estate.     These  conditions  M'ill 
suggest  to  the  English  reader  the  different  positions  of  the  country 
gentleman  and  the  small  farmer  in  this  country.     Not  only  is  the 
American  farmer  generally  the  chief  labourer  on  his  own  land,  but 
the  different  members  of  his  family — his  wife,  his  daughters,  and 
sons,  unless  ambition  prompt  the  last-mentioned  to  seek  the  towns 
for  the  purpose  of  engaging  in  mercantile  or  professional  pursuits, 
take  their  respective  and  appropriate  shares  in  the  management  of 
the  farm.     This  daily  habit  of  cheerful  toil,  if  not  very  favourable 
to  the  growth  of  the  amenities  of  life,  keeps  the  energies  from  be- 
coming dormant,  begets   self-reliance,  and   gives  rise  to   a  sturdy 
feeling  of  independence.     Very  different  is  it  with  the  luxurious 
planter  of  the  south.     To  him,  labour  would  be  disgrace.     Vege- 
tating, as  it  were,  upon  his  estate,  and  surrounded  by  hundreds  of 
slaves  ready  to  obey  his  nod,  he  frequently  disencumbers  himself 
even  of  the  management  of  his  property,  which  he  intrusts  to  the 
care  of  overseers,  giving  himself  up  to  recreation  and  amusement, 
and,  in  many  cases,  to  study,  to  which  he  is  invited  by  the   beau- 
teous repose  and  the  glorious  serenity  of  nature,  which  mark  his 
enervating  climate.    And  so  with  his  family.     Strangers  to  toil,  and 
dependent  for  almost  every  comfort  upon  the  labour  of  others,  they 
have  time  and  opportunity  to  cultivate  that  indescribable  ease  and 
grace  which  are  typical  of  the  more  polished  circles  in  older  com- 
munities.    It  is  thus  that  one  much  more  frequendy  meets  with  the 
conventional  lady  and  gentleman  in  the  slave,  than  in  the  free  States  ; 
the  latter  being  not  only  more  polished  in  manner  than  his  nortliern 
countryman,  but  also  presenting  a  higher  standard  of  intellectual 
cultivation;  and  the  former  only  finding  her  parallel,  as  a  general 
rule,  in  the  more  accomplished  circles  of  the  northern  cities. 

Domestic  slavery  predominates,  perhaps,  to  a  greater  extent  in 
Virginia  than  in  any  of  the  adjoining  States,  where  it  is  more  gene- 
rally to  be  met  with  in  its  predial  and  harsher  aspect.  The  slaves 
about  the  household  are  usually  divided  amongst  the  different  mem- 
bers of  the  family,  as  is  the  case  in  Russia;  and  it  is  singular  to  wit- 
ness the  attachment  which  sometimes  springs  up  between  the  mas- 
ter and  the  slave.  Frequently,  too,  when  there  are  guests  in  the 
house,  to  each  is  assigned  a  slave  or  slaves,  whose  duty  it  is  to  wait 
upon  him  or  her  during  the  visit. 

An  incident  in  Virginia,  which  will  be  recognised  as  analogous 
to  some  of  the  habits  of  English  country  life,  is  to  be  found  in  the 
visiting  parties,  which,  during  a  portion  of  the  j-ear,  take  place 
throughout  the  State.     A  planter  and  his  family  will  then  have  their 

09* 


2oS  THE  WESTERN  WORLD 

friends  in  the  ncighboiirhootl,  and  frequently  some  of  those  at  a  dis- 
tance, under  their  roof  for  weeks  together,  the  wliole  time  being 
spent  in  one  continued  round  of  gaiety  and  amusement.  For  tlii.s 
their  mansions  are  well  adapted,  being  constructed  on  a  large  and 
commo(hous  scale,  as  compared  with  the  rural  dwellings  to  be  found 
in  tiie  free  and  grain-growing  States;  and  many  of  them  presenting 
to  the  eye  large  piles  of  irregular  architecture,  quite  in  contrast  with 
the  prim  and  formal  style  of  the  north,  and  consisting  generally  of  a 
colonial  nucleus,  to  which  a  variety  of  wings  have  been  appended 
since  the  epoch  of  the  Revolution.  I  was  startled  the  first  time  I 
saw  quaint  old  turrets  and  projecting  and  multitudinous  gable  ends, 
embowered  amid  the  foliage  of  the  New  World.  It  seemed  to  me 
that  such  things  were  more  in  keeping  when  in  juxtaposition  with 
the  spreading  oak  and  the  beech,  than  with  the  hickory,  the  black 
walnut  and  the  acacia.  What  I  would  have  looked  for  on  the  Severn 
and  the  Dee,  surprised  me,  at  first,  when  met  with  on  the  Roanoke 
and  the  Shenandoah. 

Durino-  the  continuance  of  these  visits,  the  guests  sometimes  meet 
each  other  at,  and  at  other  times  not  till  after,  breakfast.     When  a 
general  excursion  is  proposed,  they  set  ofi'  immediately,  before  the 
heat  of  the  day  comes  on.     When  nothing  of  the  kind  is  contem- 
plated, a  portion  of  the  morning  is  spent  in  walking  about  the  grounds, 
or  in  making  some  preliminary  preparations  for  the  amusements  of 
the  evening.     About  eleven  o'clock  they  all  disappear,  to  avoid  the 
heat  of  the  day;   the  ladies  retiring  to  their  rooms,  the  gentlemen, 
with  the  exception  of  such  as  go  hunting  or  fishing,  to  theirs.     The 
chambers  are  partially  darkened,  to  avoid  tlie  heat  and  fierce  glare 
of  mid-day;  and  the  burning  hours  are  thus  passed  either  in  reading 
or  in  yielding  to  their  somnolent  influences.     In  the  afternoon,  when 
parties  dare  to  face  the  sun,  they  emerge  from  their  hiding-places, 
and  all  is  life  again;  attention  being  occupied  by  a  variety  of  amuse- 
ments till  dinner-time.     The  evening  is  generally  devoted  to  dancing, 
which,  when  the  heat  is  too  oppressive  to  admit  of  its  continuance 
within,  is  sometimes  transferred  to  the  lawn;  and  a  pretty  sight  it  is, 
in  the  broad  moonlight,  and  when  the  dew  has  forgotten  to  fall,  to 
see  a  whole  party  thus  engaged — the  ringing  laugh  accompanying, 
every  now  and  then,  the  evolutions  of  the  dance;  whilst  hard  by 
may  be  seen  a  dusky  crowd  of  both  sexes,  jabbering  and  grinning 
in  innocent  mirth,  and  apparently,  in  being  permitted  to  witness  it, 
enjoying  the  scene  as  much  as  their  masters,  who  are  mixing  in  it. 
The  English  reader  has  already,  through  a  variety  of  channels, 
been  made  familiar  with  the  appearance  presented  by  an  American 
table.     I  can  scarcely  avoid,  however,  here  briefly  referring  to  the 
prominent  part  borne  by  Indian  corn  in  southern,  and  particularly 
in  Virginia,  dietary.     With  us,  the  term  "corn"  is  applied  pre-emi- 
nently to  wheat — in  America  it  is  exclusively  used  to  designate  the 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 


2o9 


Indian  grain,  which  is  consumed  in  enormous  quantities  by  man  and 
beast,  not  only  in  the  States,  but  also  in  the  Canadas  and  the  other 
British  provinces.     The  extent  to  which  it  is  used  over  the  entire 
continent,  is  only  equalled  by  the  variety  of  modes  in  which  it  is 
prepared.     AVhilst  it  is  yet  green  in  the  ear,  it  becomes,  by  boiling, 
a  delicious  vegetable  for  the  table;  and  when  ripe,  is  capable,  be- 
fore it  is  ground,  of  being  prepared  for  food  in  a  great  variety  of 
ways.     To  describe  the  multifarious  uses  to  which  it  is  applied  in 
the  shape  of  flour,  is  almost  impossible;  making  its  appearance  in 
every  form,  from  the  crude  condition  of  gruel  and  stirabout,  through 
the  stages  of  pancakes,  to  bread  in  twenty  different  shapes,  and 
compounds  of  the  richest  and  most  luscious  description.     In  Virgi- 
nia, corn-bread  has  almost  entirely  banished  every  other  species  of 
bread  from  common  use,  and  this  is  not  only  with  the  poorest,  but 
also  with  the  wealthiest  classes.     It  is  customary,  when  Virginians 
have  guests  in  their  houses,  to  put  wheaten  bread  upon  the  table ; 
but  when  the  family  is  left  to  itself,  wheaten  bread  may  not  make 
its  appearance,  at  any  meal,  for  weeks  at  a  time.     I  once  saw  Indian 
flour  in  seven  diflerent  forms  of  preparation  upon  a  private  break- 
fast-table.    It  is  thus  universally  used,  because  it  is  universally  pre- 
ferred to  wheat  in  any  form,  although  the  very  best  wheat  raised  in 
the  country  is  the  produce  of  Virginia.     I  mention  these  facts  to 
remove,  as  far  as  possible,  the  prejudice  which,  from  two  causes, 
exists  in  this  country  against  Indian  corn.     The  first  is,  that  it  is 
looked  upon  as  an  inferior  diet,  to  which  those  who  use  it  are 
driven  by  a  species  of  necessity ;  and  that  it  is  deficient  in  nutritious 
quaUties.    The  fact  that  it  is  not  only  extensively  used  by  all  classes 
throughout  America,  whilst  in  the  south  its  use  is  almost  exclusive 
in  the  shape  of  bread,  not  only  in  the  hut  of  the  slave,  but  in  the 
mansion  of  his  master,  and  that  those  who  undergo  the  greatest  toil, 
in  many  parts  of  the  country,  seldom  consume  any  other  grain,  is 
sufficient  to  demonstrate  the  groundlessness  of  this  supposition.    The 
second  cause  of  the  prejudice  is  the  unpalatable  shape  in  which  it 
has  generally  been  presented  to  the  people  of  this  country.     In  no 
form  in  which  it  is  used  in  America  is  it  ever  taken  cold.     When 
wanted  in  the  shape  of  bread,  no  more  is  baked  than  is  necessary 
for  the  time  being.     It  is  never  baked,  as  it  has  been  here,  in  large 
quantities,  and  in  the  shape  of  loaves,  as  ordinary  flour  is  baked  into 
bread;  nor  is  it  mixed  with  any  other  species  of  flour  or  meal.    In- 
dian corn  is  always  best  when  used  by  itself,  with  the  exception  of 
such  ingredients  as  eggs,  butter,  milk,  sugar,  &c.,  which  are  fre- 
quently'superadded  in  its  preparation  to  give  it  additional  richness 
and  flaVour.    To  my  palate  it  was  never  so  sweet  as  when  prepared 
in  the  very  simplest'^manner.     In  preparing  it  for  their  own  use,  the 
negro  women  generally  mix  it  simply  with  water  and  a  little  salt; 
the  dough,  which  is  thus  formed,  being  made  up  into  a  roll  about 


260  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

the  size  and  sliape  of  a  soda-water  bottle,  witliout  tlie  neck.  This 
is  enveloped  in  the  hot  ashes  of  a  wood  fire,  which  is  the  simple 
process  by  which  it  is  baked.  When  ready  it  is  taken  to  the  pump, 
imd  whilst  yet  hot  the  ashes  are  washed  off  it.  When  they  wish 
to  be  a  little  particular,  they  protect  it,  by  enveloping-  it  in  leaves 
before  covering  it  with  tiie  ashes.  Simple  though  this  preparation  be, 
the  bread  produced  by  it  is,  whilst  warm,  exceedingly  sweet.  The 
*'  hoe  cake  "  is  the  product  of  a  similar  ceremony,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  its  being  toasted  by  the  fire,  instead  of  being  baked  in  the 
ashes. 

In  no  other  part  of  the  country,  perhaps,  is  the  pride  of  ancestry 
so  gready  cherished  as  in  Virginia.  Indeed,  I  found  througliout  the 
Kepublic  that,  when  an  American  was  positive  that  he  had  a  grand- 
father, he  was  quite  as  partial  to  his  memory  as  grandchildren  are 
wont  to  be  in  more  aristocratic  communities.  It  is  not  without  con- 
siderable satisfaction  that  descent  is  thus  traced  back  to  the  Colonial 
era,  which  is  of  course  proportionably  enhanced  when  the  Atlantic 
•can  be  crossed,  and  the  Propositus  John  Stiles  of  the  genealogical 
diagram  can  be  traced  to  some  English  locality.  There  are  many 
Virginian  families  who  gready  pride  themselves  on  their  direct  and 
demonstrable  English  connexion,  more  demonstrable  here,  perhaps, 
than  elsewhere,  because  the  property  of  Virginia  has  changed  hands, 
since  the  RevoluUon,  to  a  less  extent  than  in  any  other  State  of  the 
Union.  A  Virginian  was  once  dilating  to  me  upon  this  weakness, 
as  he  termed  it,  in  the  character  of  his  countrymen,  but  about  five 
minutes  afterwards  he  confidentially  informed  me  that  he  could  trace 
a  very  direct  family  connexion  between  himself  and  William  the 
Conqueror.  He  must  have  read  in  my  look  that  I  regarded  this  as 
rather  a  strange  commentary  upon  his  previous  criticism  on  Vir<;i- 
nian  character,  for  he  immediately  added,  that  it  was  his  dehVht  to 
curb  the  pride  of  a  maiden  aunt  of  his,  who  was  very  fond  of  refer- 
ring to  the  circumstance,  by  reminding  her  that  on  the  female  side 
they  were  descended  from  a  poor  Irish  girl,  who  had  been  trans- 
ported, and  purchased  for  a  hogshead  of  tobacco  on  the  banks  of  the 
James. 

Nature  has  divided  the  State  of  Virginia  into  three  great  and  dis- 
tinct sections:  the  tide-water  region,  the  central  valley,  and  the  west- 
ern portion  of  the  State.  Of  these,  the  central  valley,  or  the  Valley 
of  Virginia,  as  it  is  frequenUy  called,  is  by  far  the  most  eligible  in 
every  point  of  view.  It  is  on  it  that  the  Virginians  concentrate  their 
pride.  Indeed,  they  call  it  Virginia.  And  truly,  without  traversintr 
it,  the  stranger  can  form  but  an  inadequate  conception  of  the  charac- 
teristics of  the  State,  either  in  a  moral  or  a  material  point  of  view. 
Properly  speaking,  this  central  portion  includes  all  that  lies  between 
the  tide- water  and  the  westerly  districts  of  the  State,  embracing  about 
one   moiety  of  it.     The  valley,  so  called,  is  comprehended   in  this, 

! 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 


261 


extending  in  a  north-easterly  and  south-westerly  direction,  and  nest- 
ling in  the  very  lap  of  the  Alleghenies,  which,  in  traversing  the  State, 
separate  into  two  great,  with  several  suhsidiary  parallel  ridges,  which 
throw  out  their  spurs  for  considerable  distances  in  every  direction. 
The  area  of  the  valley  thus  enclosed  is  equal  to  about  one-fourth  that 
of  the  State.  The  more  easterly  of  the  two  ridges  bears  the  general 
name  of  the  Blue  Mountains,  Nothing  of  the  kind  can  be  more 
charming  to  the  eye  than  their  appearance  on  approaching  them. 
Their  oudine  is  but  little  varied,  as  they  loom  in  the  distance  over 
the  surrounding  country;  but  when  seen  through  the  clear  air,  wiiilst 
you  are  vet  a  day's  journey  from  them,  they  appear  as  if  afloat  in 
the  far  off  sky,  clothed  in  the  softest  lint  of  mingled  blue  and  green, 
on  which  the  eye  rests  with  rapture,  and  which  it  finds  relief,  as  it 
were,  in  drinking  in. 

At  the  basis  of  this  ridge,  both  on  its  eastern  and  western  sides, 
lie  ranges  of  counties,  unmatched  in  fertility  and  productiveness  by 
any  others  in  the  State.  Most  of  the  tobacco  raised  in  the  State  is 
produced  to  the  eastward  of  the  mountains,  where  a  great  deal  of 
wheat  is  also  annually  produced.  Wheat  is  the  principal  product  of 
the  valley.  Here,  too,  the  estates  are  far  from  being  so  large  as  they 
are  in  other  portions  of  the  State.  In  fact,  life  in  the  valley  is,  in  the 
main,  a  condition  of  society  intermediate  between  that  just  described, 
and  the  social  development  of  the  northern  and  north-western  States. 
Labour  is  not  here  altogether  discreditable  to  the  while  man,  and  the 
slaves  are  comparatively  few  in  number.  It  is  only  in  autumn  that 
one  can  fully  appreciate  the  richness  of  this  beautiful  and  salubrious 
region,  when  the  golden  wheal  is  ready  for  the  sickle,  and  the  tall 
Indian  corn  is  bending  with  the  weight  of  its  product,  and  when  the 
many  orchards  that  chequer  the  slopes  of  the  hills  are  spangled  with 
their  mellow  fruit,  amongst  which  the  apple  and  the  peach  are  con- 
spicuously abundant,  so  much  so,  indeed,  that  the  hogs  are  frequently 
permitted  to  satiate  themselves  upon  them. 

The  whole  valley  abounds  in  mineral  springs,  which  are  anmi- 
ally  resorted  to  in  great  numbers  by  invalids  and  fashionables. 
There  are  the  White  Sulphur,  the  Blue  Sulphur,  and  the  Red  Sul- 
phur Springs,  the  Warm  and  the  Cold  Springs,  and  a  variety  of 
others,  whose  names  denote  their  characteristic  quality.  Some  of 
these  are  for  internal,  others  for  external,  application.  At  some, 
the  accommodations  are  good;  at  others,  rather  indifferent.  Many 
live  in  hotels,  others  in  small  cottages,  built  by  themselves  near  the 
springs,  upon  lots  given  them  for  that  purpose  by  the  owner,  on 
condition  that  when  they  are  not  occupying  them,  the  ow^ner  of  the 
ground  shall  have  the  use  of  them.  Most  of  those  who  thus  live,^ 
take  their  meals  at  the  hotels.     In  the  immediate  neighbourhood  of 

one  of  the  principal  springs,  the  ground  is  owned  by  a  Mr.  C , 

who  has  parcelled  off  a  good  deal  of  it  on  the  above  condition,  and 


262  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

keeps  the  only  hotel  in  the  place.  Every  thin^  is  in  first-rate  style, 
except  the  table,  of  wliicli  great  complaint  is  frequently  made;  but 
the  landlord  coolly  tells  his  guests,  that  they  only  pay  him  for  their 
accommodation  in  the  way  of  lodgings,  and  that,  as  he  gives  them 
their  meals  into  the  bargain,  it  does  not  become  them  to  complain. 
They  have  no  possible  redress,  for  he  will  neither  sell  nor  lease  an 
inch  of  ground  in  the  neighbourhood,  for  the  purpose  of  building  a 
rival  hotel.  Many  families,  from  all  parts  of  the  Union,  prefer  the 
quiet  and  retirement  of  the  springs  of  Virginia,  to  the  hurry-scurry 
life  and  fashionable  vortex  of  Saratoo^a. 

In  many  respects,  the  sea-board,  or  tide-water  region,  differs  ma- 
terially from  the  portion  of  the  State  just  described.  The  soil  is 
poor  and  scanty;  the  products  are  less  varied  and  less  abundant;  the 
estates  are  large,  and  the  slaves  upon  them  exceedingly  numerous; 
and,  to  crown  all,  from  July  to  October  a  great  portion  of  it  is  unin- 
habitable by  the  white  man. 

The  reader  will  find,  on  glancing  at  the  map,  that  between  the 
Atlantic  and  the  Alleghenies,  the  continent  is  divided  into  two  great 
terraces,  which  run  parallel  to  the  mountains  and  the  sea-board. 
That  next  the  sea-board  is  low  and  flat,  and  extends,  at  some  points, 
upwards  of  150  miles  into  the  interior,  at  others  to  a  much  less 
distance.  The  other  rises  immediately  from  it,  is  broken  and  un- 
dulating, and  extends  westward  to  the  mountain  chain.  It  is  evi- 
dent, therefore,  that  the  rivers,  in  pursuing  their  course  eastward  to 
the  Atlantic,  must  undergo  a  series  of  descents,  or  one  very  abrupt 
descent,  in  their  channels,  in  leaving  the  one  level  for  the  other.  It 
is  thus  that  almost  all  the  rivers  which  drain  the  continent  into  the 
Atlantic  have,  at  some  point  or  points  in  their  course,  their  respect- 
ive falls  or  rapids.  At  Glen's  Falls,  the  Hudson  abruptly  changes 
its  level;  at  Trenton,  the  Delavrare,  though  not  so  abrupdy,  does 
the  same ;  at  Georgetown,  near  Washington,  the  Potomac,  by  a 
series  of  rapids,  finds  the  tide-water  level;  as  does  the  James  River 
at  Richmond.  A  similar  formation,  though  not  in  connexion  with 
the  same  system,  seems  to  prevail  in  the  valley  of  tlie  St.  Lawrence, 
the  waters  of  Lake  Erie  plunging  by  the  Falls  of  Niagara  to  the 
level  of  Lake  Ontario,  from  which  they  seek  the  still  lower  level  of 
the  tide-water  region,  by  the  stupendous  rapids  of  the  St.  Lawrence. 
Up  the  channels  of  these  rivers  the  tide  flows,  until  it  is  checked 
by  the  sudden  change  which  takes  place  in  the  level  of  the  country. 
Thus  in  the  St.  Lawrence,  it  flows  up  to  Three  Rivers,  90  miles 
above  (iiiebec,  and  nearly  500  miles  from  the  Gulf,  although  in  this 
case  it  does  not  reach  the  rapids,  the  lowest  of  which  is  close  to 
Montreal,  90  miles  still  higher  up.  In  the  Hudson  it  flows  upwards 
of  150  miles  from  the  ocean;  in  the  Delaware,  past  Philadelphia;  in 
the  Potomac,  140  miles  from  Chesapeake  Bay,  up  to  Washington; 
and  in  the  James,  to  Richmond,  upwards  of  120  miles  from  its  en- 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  263 

trance  into  the  Atlantic.  The  same  physical  phenomenon  may  be 
traced  still  further  southward,  tlirough  the  Carolinas  and  Georg-ia. 
To  the  north  of  the  Potomac,  the  tide-water  region  is  as  healiliy, 
perhaps,  as  any  other  portion  of  the  country  in  corresponding  lati- 
tudes ;  but  the  exhalations  of  summer  from  the  low  marshy  grounds 
of  the  tide-water  districts  of  Virginia,  North  and  South  Carolina, 
and  Georgia,  so  poison  the  atmosphere,  that  by  the  month  of  July, 
every  white  inhabitant  who  can,  is  fain  to  fly  the  pestilential  region, 
until  the  ensuing  October.  How  many  things  frequently,  without 
our  dreaming  of  it,  influence  largely  the  institutions  of  society,  and  the 
moral  and  political  condition  of  man !  I  now  approach  a  painful 
subject,  in  considering  which  with  all  the  calmness  and  impartiality 
at  my  command,  I  shall  endeavour  to  illustrate  how  far  even  this 
configuration  of  the  continent  influences  the  all-important  question 
of  Slavery. 


CHAPTER  XVHI. 

SLAVERY, IN  ITS  POLITICAL  ASPECT. 

Jlisconception  which  prevails  in  reference  to  Slavery  in  America-— Necessity 
of  candidly  considering  the  subject. — Slavery,  as  a  political  question,  the 
prime  Difficulty  of  the  Republic— Division  of  the  Union  into  Free  and 
Slave-holding  States. — Parties  to  which  the  question  of  Slavery  gives  rise. — 
The  Abolitionists  but  a  section  of  the  Anti-slavery  party. — Different  Views 
of  parties. — Constitutional  Question  involved. — Congress  has  no  power  over 

the  subject  in  the  States. — Power  over  it  reserved  to  the  separate  States 

Who  to  blame,  and  who  not  to  blame,  for  its  continuance  in  the  States. — 
Powers  of  Congress  over  Slavery  in  the  District  of  Columbia.— Questione 
raised  in  connexion  with  this  power,  between  the  Abolitionists  and  the 
Slave-holders. — The  cause  of  humanity  has  gained,  not  lost,  by  the  limita- 
tion of  the  powers  of  Congress. — Moral  influence  exerted  by  the  North  in 
behalf  of  Emancipation. — Indiscretion  of  the  Abolitionists. — Consequences 
of  this  upon  the  prospects  of  the  Slave. — Question  between  the  Republic 
and  Humanity. — The  defence  which  the  former  prefers. — Insuperable  Diffi- 
culties in  the  way  of  immediate  Abolition. — Emancipation  of  her  Slaves  by- 
Great   Britain. — No  Parallel   between  the  two  cases. — Slavery,  and   the 
Declaration  of  Independence.— -The  question  of  Slavery  as  it  affects  the 
Union. — Approach  of  the  Crisis. — Conclusion. 

If  there  is  one  subject  on  which,  more  than  another,  miscon- 
ception prevails  in  this  country;  on  which  prejudice  over-rides  the 
judgment,  and  philanthropy  discards  from  its  consideration  every 


264  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

notion  of  practicability,  it  4S  that  of  slavery  in  tlie  United  States. 
On  most  questions  connected  ^vith  America,  there  is  a  disposition 
in  many  quarters  to  jump  at  unfavourable  conclusions;  but  on  no 
subject  so  much  as  on  this,  is  decision  so  independent  of  previous 
examination  into  the  circumstances  of  the  case.  European  preju- 
dice fastens  eagerly  upon  slavery  as  a  welcome  crime  to  charge 
upon  the  American  republic ;  and  philanthropy,  in  the  headlong 
pursuit  of  its  end,  defeats  its  own  purpose  by  stumbling  over  the 
difficulties  to  which  it  is  wilfully  blind.  That  there  is  a  stain  on 
the  escutcheon  of  the  Republic  is  palpable  to  all.  Political  antipa- 
thies chuckle  at  its  existence,  whilst  benevolence  is  outraged  because 
it  is  not  instantaneously  eradicated.  Few  understand  the  merits  of 
the  case,  because  few  care  to  examine  into  them.  In  the  general 
cry  against  American  slavery  there  is  some  justice,  but  more  of  pre- 
judice and  mistaken  zeal.  It  is  treated  as  a  cloak,  which  the  Re- 
public could  lay  aside  at  its  pleasure,  instead  of  as  involving  a  ques- 
tion of  transcendent  difficulty,  from  being  an  institution  which  enters 
into  the  very  texture  and  tibre  of  its  frame. 

It  is  with  a  view  to  present  it  succinctly  in  all  its  bearings,  that  I 
devote  this  and  the  succeeding  chapter  to  the  consideration  of  the 
important  question  of  American  slavery.  In  making  the  tour  of  the 
country,  I  could  not  select  a  better  opportunity  for  investigating  into 
this  subject,  than  vvhilstyetasojournerin  Virginia,  the  chief"  breeding 
Slate."  Nor  will  the  time  be  deemed  as  inaptly  chosen  for  its  full 
and  dispassionate  consideration,  M'lien  it  is  borne  in  mind  to  how 
great  an  extent  the  tide  is  now  unfortunately  turning  in  Europe,  if 
not  in  favour  of  slavery,  at  least  of  somediing  very  nearly  approxi- 
mating to  it.  Whilst  the  public  mind  is  becoming  imbued  with  the 
notion  that,  in  the  course  which  was  pursued  in  regard  to  the  West 
Indies,  if  we  have  not  gone  too  far,  we  acted  at  least  with  rashness 
and  precipitation,  it  will  not  refuse  a  dispassionate  inquiry  into  the 
perplexing  and  ill-understood  question  of  American  slavery.  In 
doing  what  lies  in  my  power  to  guide  this  inquiry,  I  shall  first 
consider  the  institution  in  its  political  aspect. 

It  may  be  as  well  to  premise  that  I  am  neither  the  apologist  of 
.slavery  in  the  abstract,  nor  the  panegyrist  of  the  phase,  which,  as  a 
domestic  institution,  it  has  assumed  in  America.  In  what  follows, 
on  this  subject,  my  sole  object  will  be  to  present  the  question  in  its 
true  light,  so  as  to  enable  the  reader  to  form  his  own  conclusions. 
To  such  as  prefer  prejudging  the  subject,  I  have  nothing  to  say;  my 
exposition  being  exclusively  addressed  to  those  whose  candour  in- 
clines them  to  form  a  correct  estimate  of  a  sad  reality. 

As  a  political  question,  it  is,  beyond  doul)t,  the  prime  difficulty  of 
J    the  Confederacy — a  proposition,  with  the  truth  ot  which  none  are 
more  deeply  impressed  than  are  the  Americans  themselves.      How- 
ever they  may  cliflcr  in  their  views  as  to  the  course  which  should 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  265 

be  pursued  in  regard  to  it,  as  an  established  institution,  its  actual 
presence  amongst  them  is  a  fact  which  they  universally  deplore. 
There  it  is,  a  great  and  an  acknowledged  evil,  which  they  must 
either  endure,  or  dissipate  in  a  mode  which  will  not  superinduce 
greater  evils  still.  It  hangs  about  the  social  and  political  system, 
like  a  great  tumour  upon  the  body,  which  cannot  be  suddenly  cut 
away,  without  risking  a  hemorrhage  which  would  endanger  life,  and 
which  cannot  be  permitted  to  remain  without  incurring  perils  equally 
certain,  though  not  so  im.mediate.  The  perplexing  question  is,  as 
to  the  remedies  to  be  applied  for  its  gradual  extinction,  and  as  to 
the  time  and  mode  of  their  application.  Meantime  the  evil  is  on 
the  increase,  and  the  w^orst  presentiments  are  entertained  as  to  its 
issue,  as  regards  both  the  political  and  social  destinies  of  the  Re- 
public. 

For  the  better  understanding  of  the  subject,  the  reader  will  ex- 
cuse me  for  here  reminding  him  that  slavery  in  the  United  States 
is  not  an  institution  common  to  the  whole  Republic.  In  this  re- 
spect the  Union  resolves  itself  into  two  great  institutional  divisions, 
the  line  of  demarkation  being  about  the  39th  parallel  of  latitude;  in 
other  words,  the  Confederacy  is  divided  into  the  free  States  of  the 
north,  and  the  slave-holding  States  of  the  south.  The  former  are 
as  free  from  the  taint  of  slavery  as  is  England  herself,  most  of  them 
having  washed  their  hands  of  it  at  a  much  earlier  period  than  she 
did.  The  political  balance  subsisting  between  these  two  sections 
of  the  Union  will  be  more  appropriately  considered  hereafter.  All 
that  is  now  necessary  for  a  due  understanding  of  the  position  of 
parties  with  respect  to  slavery  is,  that  the  fact  of  this  division  should 
be  kept  in  view. 

It  is  not  my  purpose  to  go  into  an  historical  account  of  the  abo- 
lition movement  in  America,  but  simply  to  show  the  present  posi- 
tion of  parties  with  respect  to  the  question  of  slavery.  The  anti- 
and  pro-slavery  parties  have  no  necessary  connexion  with  the  great 
political  parties  of  the  country.  Abolitionism  is  a  creed  common 
both  to  the  Democrat  and  to  the  Whig,  the  antagonist  doctrine  also 
finding  its  adherents  in  the  ranks  of  both  parties.  As  a  general  rule, 
however,  the  abolition  tenets  are  more  extensively  harboured  by 
the  Whigs  in  the  north  than  by  their  political  opponents;  the  name 
of  "Abolition  Whigs"  being  given  them  by  the  Democrat,  when  it 
suits  his  humour  to  be  particularly  bitter. 

The  anti-slavery  party  is  divided  into  tw^o  sections,  comprising 
those  who  are  known,  par  excellence,  as  the  Abolitionists,  and  those 
who,  not  ranging  themselves  under  the  abolition  banners,  are  opposed 
to  slavery  from  considerations  which  will  be  presently  adverted  to. 
There  is  no  division  to  be  observed  in  the  opposite  ranks.  Although 
the  pro-slavery  party  are,  generally  speaking,  confined  to  the  south, 
they  are  not  without  their  "sympathizers"  and  abettors  in  the  nortii. 
VOL.  L — 23 


266  THE  WESTERN  WOFvLD. 

The  great  stronghold  of  the  other  party  is,  of  course,  the  free  north, 
although  there  are  many  who  co-operate  with  them,  even  in  the 
southern  section  of  the  Confederacy.     It  will  thus  be  seen  that,  even 
on  this  question,  which  comes  nearer  than  any  other  to  the  division 
of  parties  into  geographical  sections,  party  feeling,  instead  of  being 
confined  to  certain  parallels  of  latitude,  is  homogeneous  to  tlie  Union. 
Taking  the  two  parties  generally,  the  question  raised  between  them 
is  one'iiiainly,  if  not  entirely,  of  a  political  cast.     True,  the  section 
of  the  anti-slavery  party,  known  as  the  AboHtionists  proper,  make 
their  principal  stand  upon  the  morality  of  the  question,  contending 
that  no  considerations  of  political  expediency  can  justify  the  exis- 
tence of  an  institution,  so  oflensive  to  morals  and  religion,  for  a 
moment  longer  than  the  time  needed  to  erase  it  by  the  transcendent 
power  of  legislation.     Their  more  moderate  coadjutors,  comprising 
the  great  bulk  of  the  anti-slavery  party,  agreeing  with  them  as  to 
the  immorality  of  the  institution,  and  the  desirableness  of  getting  rid 
of  it,  differ  Avith  them  as  to  the  safety  or  practicability  of  its  instan- 
■  taneous  abolition.   Nor  are  all  the  Abolitionists  men  of  impracticable 
views;  although  on  this  question  of  gradual  or  immediate  emanci- 
pation, the  majority  of  them  differ  from  the  bulk  of  the  anti-slavery 
party ;  and  it  is  this  difference  which  makes  the  Abolitionists  act 
politically  together,  independently  of  the  rest  of  that  party.     Thus, 
frequently,  both  in  local  and  general  elections,  they  are  found  for- 
getting tlieir  political  differences,  and  acting  in  concert — sometimes 
having  candidates  of  their  own.     This  is  the  only  way  in  which 
this  fmgment  of  the  constituency  of  the  country — for,  after  all,  they 
are  by  no  means  numerous — can  exert  a  political  influence,  and 
sometimes  the  balance  of  parties  is  so  nice,  that  that  influence  is 
not  unimportant.     It  was  the  abolitionist  vote  of  the  State  of  New 
York  that  gave  to  Mr.  Polk,  instead  of  to  Mr.  Clay,  the  Presidency 
in  1844.     The  consequences  of  that  vote  have  been  the  Oregon  dis- 
pute, and  the  rupture  with,  and  spoliation  of,  Mexico.     The  ground 
assumed  by  the  pro-slavery  party  is  simply  that  of  political  expe- 
diency.    Even  in  the  south  there  are  none  bold  enough  openly  to 
defend  slavery  on  any  other  pretext.     If  they  entertain  other  senti- 
ments, they  render  homage  to  morals  and  humanity  by  carefully 
concealing  them.    The  views  of  the  diflTerent  parties  may  be  summed 
up  thus:— The  pro-slavery  party,  admitting  the  abstract  injustice  of 
the  institution,  treat  it,  nevertheless,  as  an  unfortunate  fact,  of  which 
they  cannot  get  rid,  or  which,  at  best,  they  can  only  gradually  ob- 
literate.    The  bulk  of  the  anti-slavery  party,  agreeing  with  them  in 
this,  urge  them  to  commence  at  once,  and  to  hasten,  by  all  practi- 
cable means,  the  work  of  its  extinction;  Avhilst  the  more  zealous 
wing  of  that  party,  the  Abolitionists,  are  ready  to  sacrifice  every 
other  consideration  to  their  grand  desideratum  of  immediate  emanci- 
pation. 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  267 

Such  being  the  state  of  parties,  and  such  the  general  views  en- 
tertained by  them,  it  becomes  important  now  to  consider  the  con- 
stitutional question  involved  in  the  issue  between  them.  This  has 
an  obvious  bearing  upon  the  whole  subject  in  treating  of  slavery  as 
an  American  question;  especially  when  it  is  borne  in  mind  that 
constitutional  governments  are,  or  should  be  guided  in  their  conduct 
by  prescribed  rules  of  action.  It  is  only  through  the  instrumentality 
of  a  political  agency,  that  the  institution  of  slavery  can  be  either 
modified  or  extinguished;  and  I  sliall  now  proceed  to  show  what 
that  agency  is  in  America,  and  the  mode  in  which  alone  it  can  be 
put  in  operation. 

The  majority  of  those  who  indiscriminately  charge  slavery  as  a 
crime  upon  the  whole  American  republic,  do  so  under  the  impression 
that  Congress  has  the  same  transcendent  power  over  it  as  the  British 
Parliament  rightfully  exercised  over  servitude  in  the  West  Indies. 
This  impression  argues  either  an  ignorance  or  a  forgetfulness  both 
of  the  constitution  and  functions  of  Congress.  There  is  no  omni- 
potent legislature  in  America.  Congress  is  the  creature  of  the  Con- 
stitution, and  its  action,  like  that  of  the  local  legislatures,  is  circum- 
scribed by  certain  specified  limits ;  beyond  which  it  has  no  constitu- 
tional power  to  act.  Its  legislative  powers  are  strictly  confined  to 
those  cases  in  which  the  power  of  legislation  has  been  expressly  con- 
ceded to  it ;  in  all  others  it  is  impotent  for  good  or  evil.  The  question 
then,  obviously  arises,  does  slavery  fall  within  the  category  of  cases 
in  which  Congress  has  been  expressly,  or  even  by  implication,  em- 
powered to  legislate?  It  does  not.  It  follows,  therefore,  that  Con- 
gress has  no  more  power  over  slavery  in  any  of  the  American  States, 
than  has  the  British  Parliament.  This  incompetency  of  Congress 
to  meddle  with  the  subject,  implies  the  abdication  of  all  right  to  in- 
terfere with  it,  on  the  part  of  the  people,  in  their  aggregate  capacity. 
To  this  abdication,  as  will  immediately  be  seen,  the  weightiest  conside- 
rations contributed,  and  with  the  most  favourable  results.  For  what 
the  people,  in  their  aggregate  capacity,  cannot  effect,  the  people,  in 
that  capacity,  cannot  be  held  responsible.  Whatever  charge,  there- 
fore, may  be  brought  against  those  who  have  absolute  and  undoubted 
power  over  the  whole  subject,  it  is  obviously  improper  to  visit  the 
entire  confederacy  with  the  pecuhar  sins  of  some  only  of  its  indepen- 
dent component  members. 

As  observed  in  a  former  chapter,  in  the  distribution  of  powers  be- 
tween the  general  and  local  authorities,  a  line  of  demarkation  was 
drawn  between  such  matters  as  were  purely  of  a  domestic,  and  such 
as  were  of  federal  concern.  It  suited  the  views  of  the  framers  of  the 
Constitution,  to  comprehend  slavery  within  the  former  classification, 
by  which  it  was  entirely  withdrawn  from  federal  jurisdiction.  It  is, 
then,  exclusively  a  question  of  State  cognizance,  with  which  no  legis- 
lation but  that  of  each  particular  Stale  can  deal;  Congress,  for  in- 


26S  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

Stance,  having  no  more  autliority  over  slavery  in  South  Carolina,  than 
it  has  to  dig  a  canal,  construct  a  railway,  or  erect  a  bridge  in  the  Slate. 
Under  these  circumstances  it  is  obvious,  that  whatever  blame  attaches 
to  the  institution,  rests  solely  with  the  States  in  which  slavery  still 
legally  and  politically  exists;  for  as  the  slave  States  can  claim  no  share 
of  the  credit  which  belongs  to  the  free  States  for  the  example  of 
emancipation  set  by  them,  so  it  is  manifestly  unjust  to  involve  the 
free  States  in  the  turpitude  of  their  more  guilty,  and,  it  must  be  con- 
fessed, their  more  unfortunate  confederates. 

This  is  the  reason  why  the  more  energetic  and  populous  section 
of  the  Confederacy  takes  no  active  political  part  in  the  question  of 
emancipation.  The  people  of  New  York,  as  of  the  other  northern 
States,  abolished  slavery  themselves,  within  their  respective  limits, 
without  the  intervention  or  interference  of  their  neighbours;  and  in 
confinino^  themselves  to  the  exercise  of  a  mere  moral  influence  over 
their  southern  brethren,  they  are  only  according  them  that  liberty 
•which  they  themselves  enjoyed,  and  the  invasion  of  which  they 
would  have  resented.  Little  as  this  mutual  independence  of  the  dif- 
ferent States,  in  relation  to  this  subject,  is  appreciated  here,  it  is  so 
well  understood  in  America,  that  even  the  most  zealous  of  the  Aboli- 
tionists acknowledge  that  it  is  only  through  local  agency  that  they  can 
succeed  in  their  object.  They  never  think  of  calling  upon  Congress 
to  do  that  which  it  is  incompetent  to  do,  to  interfere  with  the  domestic 
institutions  of  the  slave-holding  States.  On  this  all  parties  are  agreed ; 
but  the  point  on  which  the  Abolitionists  are  said  to  have  erred,  is  as 
to  the  mode  in  which  they  have  conducted  their  operations  w^ithin 
the  limits  of  the  slave  States. 

But  although  all  parties  repudiate  the  idea  that  Congress  has  any 
power  over  slavery  in  the  slave  Slates,  the  issue  which  has  been  so 
fierciely  contested  between  the  Abolitionists  and  their  antagonists  is, 
as  to  the  power  of  Congress  over  slavery  in  the  District  of  Columbia, 
The  peculiar  political  position  of  the  District,  and  the  exclusive  con- 
trol of  Congress  over  it,  have  been  previously  adverted  to.  It  is  here 
that  the  Abolitionists  have  attacked  slavery  in  what  they  consider  its 
stronghold.  Nestled  as  it  is  within  the  territories  of  two  of  the  prin- 
cipal slave-holding  States,  Maryland  and  Virginia,  the  Abolitionists 
have  acted  upon  the  principle,  that  by  getting  the  District  free,  they 
would  inflict  a  most  effectual  blow  upon  the  whole  system  of  slavery. 
Tlie  facility  of  escape  which  would  be  thereby  ofl'ered  to  the  slaves 
in  the  contiguous  Slates,  would  be  such  as  it  was  hoped  would,  by- 
and-by,  render  the  continuance  of  the  institution  a  matter  of  indiffer- 
ence iDoth  to  Virginia  and  Maryland;  and  slavery  once  abolished  or 
relaxed  in  these  Slates,  the  others  would  not  be  long  in  imitating  their 
example.  Lured  by  this  tempting  and  not  unfeasible  project,  the 
Abolitionists  have  long  urged  the  abolition  of  slavery  in  the  District. 
But  it  was  precisely  the  reasoning  which  led  them  into   this  track, 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  269 

which  induced  the  slave  States,  in  a  body,  to  meet  them  in  it,  and 
resist  them.  The  danger  to  the  institution  of  slavery,  which  llie 
success  of  this  project  would  have  involved,  was  too  obvious  to  he 
long  undiscovered,  and  it  has  therefore  been  chiefly  on  this  point  that 
the  warfare  has  been  waged. 

A  double  issue  was  immediately  raised  between  the  parties — first, 
as  to  the  power  of  Congress  to  abolish  slavery  within  the  District; 
and  next,  as  to  the  expediency  of  so  doing,  should  the  power  be 
proved  to  exist.  As  to  the  first  issue,  the  Abolitionists  cite  the  17th 
clause  of  the  8th  section  of  the  Constitution,  in  proof  of  the  affirma- 
tive. The  section  enumerates  the  powers  of  Congress,  and  the  clause 
confers  upon  that  body  authority  "  to  exercise  exclusive  legislation, 
271  (til  cases  whatsoever^  over  the  district  of  Columbia."  'J'he  Abo- 
litionists contend  that  nothing  could  be  larger  than  the  authority  con- 
veyed by  these  words,  Congress  being  invested  by  them  with  a 
species  of  absolute  dominion  over  the  "/e«  miles  square;^^  and  being 
authorized  by  them  to  exercise,  in  the  District,  any  power  which 
rightfully  falls  within  the  pale  of  human  legislation.  They  then  go 
on  to  say  that,  as  the  subject  of  slavery  falls  within  such  pale,  the 
constitutional  right  of  Congress  to  legislate,  in  regard  to  it,  cannot  bo 
disputed. 

Their  opponents  reason  otherwise.  They  deny  that  Congress  has 
the  power  to  do  any  thing,  within  the  district,  that  falls  within  the 
pale  of  human  legislation.  The  very  section,  of  which  the  clause  in 
question  is  a  part,  contains  other  clauses  of  a  restrictive  character, 
which  are  as  restrictive  of  the  powers  of  Congress  in  the  District  of 
Columbia,  as  throughout  the  Union  generally.  Thus  congress  can- 
not create  a  separate  standard  of  weights  and  measures  for  the  district, 
nor  can  it  impose  upon  it  a  law  of  naturalization  or  bankruptcy,  which 
is  not  uniform  throughout  the  United  States.  This  cuts  at  once  at 
the  ground  taken  by  the  Abolitionists,  since  it  appears  that  there  are 
some  things  which  fall  within  the  pale  of  legislation,  M'hich  Congress, 
even  in  the  District,  can  only  do  in  a  limited  and  restricted  sense. 
But  then,  say  the  Abolitionists,  the  powers  granted  within  the  Dis- 
trict are  so  general,  that  every  power  can  be  exercised  within  it,  but 
such  as  are  specially  excepted;  and  they  call  upon  the  slave-holders 
to  show  that  slavery  is  one  of  the  exceptional  cases.  And  here  they 
fairly  have  their  opponents  in  a  corner,  who  are  thereupon  obliged  to  shift 
their  ground  from  the  letter  to  the  spirit  of  the  Constitution,  and  par- 
ticularly to  the  spirit  of  the  acts  of  cession,  whereby  Maryland  and 
Virginia  ceded  to  the  United  States  their  respective  portions  of  the 
district.  The  clause  in  question  was  framed  before  it  was  known 
what  spot  would  be  ceded  to,  or  accepted  by,  the  United  States  as 
the  seat  of  government.  Had  it  been  intended,  they  say,  that  any 
such  construction  could,  or  would,  be  put  upon  the  clause,  could  it 
be  supposed,  for  a  moment,  that  two  of  the  chief  slave-holding  States 

23* 


270  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

would  have  voluntarily  transferred  to  the  government  fen  miles  ^qvare 
oil  their  conterminous  boundaries?  And  even  were  the  clause  capable 
of  such  an  interpretation,  it  was  evidently  on  the  understanding  that 
nothing  would  be  done  by  Congress  to  disturb  their  domestic  institu- 
tions, that  they  ceded  their  respective  portions  of  the  District.  To 
interfere  with  slavery  within  its  bounds,  they  maintain,  would  violate 
this  understanding,  and  peril  the  social  institutions,  not  only  of  these 
two  States,  but  also  of  every  slave-holding  State  in  the  Union.  The 
whole  of  the  slave-holding  communities  thus  make  common  cause 
with  the  two  States  more  immediately  concerned,  maintaining,  as  a 
general  principle,  in  addition  to  the  foregoing  line  of  reasoning,  that, 
as  the  federal  government  was  organized  solely  with  a  view  to  the 
better  management  of  federal  atfairs,  so  the  powers  conferred  upon  it, 
with  reference  to  the  District  of  Columbia,  which  was  ceded  to  it 
merely  for  purposes  of  general  convenience,  cannot  be  so  construed 
as  to  vest  in  Congress  any  right,  either  directly,  or  by  implication,  to 
compromise  or  interfere  with  the  domestic  institutions  of  any  State  in 
the  Union. 

As  to  the  question  of  the  expediency  of  Congress  exercising  this 
power,  were  it  proved  to  exist,  it  is  one  which  involves  so  obvious  a 
train  of  argument  on  both  sides,  that  it  is  unnecessary  here  to  enlarge 
upon  it. 

Such  is  a  very  general  outline  of  the  constitutional  merits  of  the 
question.  It  will  suffice,  in  addition  to  explaining  the  precise  mode 
in  which  the  issue  between  the  contending  parties  is  raised,  to  show 
how  far  the  Americans,  as  an  entire  people,  are  now  implicated,  if  at 
all,  in  the  guilt  of  slavery.  The  agitation  for  abolition,  if  it  is  to  be 
conducted  with  effect,  must  be  conducted  within  the  limits  of  the 
Constitution.  Confininsr  themselves  to  these  limits,  we  have  seen 
that  the  inhabitants  of  the  northern  Slates,  who  form  the  greater  sec- 
tion of  the  entire  community,  can  legally  exercise  no  legislative  con- 
trol, direct  or  indirect,  over  the  subject,  unless,  as  the  Abolitionists 
contend.  Congress  has  the  power  to  abolish  slavery  in  the  District 
of  Columbia — a  power  which  would  enable  the  aggregate  people  of 
the  Union  indirectly  to  reach  the  evil.  But  even  if  the  letter  of  the 
Constitution  would  justify  their  interference,  it  is  a  grave  question 
whether,  bv  touchinof  the  institution  in  the  District  of  Columbia,  they 
would  not  be  beginning  at  the  wrong  end,  and  perilling  the  very  object 
which  they  had  in  view.  Such  an  interference  would  certainly  lead 
to  the  rupture  of  the  Union,  on  the  maintenance  of  which  at  present, 
rests  the  only  hope  which  exists  of  the  spread  of  emancipation.  It 
is  also  a  question  whether,  if  Congress  has,  by  the  letter  of  the  Con- 
stitution, the  power  contended  for,  it  is  not  virtually  precluded  from 
the  exercise  of  it  by  the  whole  spirit  of  the  federal  compact.  It  is 
evident  then  that,  if  the  northern  States  have  no  power  to  interfere  in 
a  legislative  capacity  with  slavery  in  the  south  ;  or  if,  having  the 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  271 

power  indirectly  so  to  do,  they  are  prevented  from  so  doing  as  well 
by  considerations  connected  with  the  question  of  slavery  itself,  as  by 
the  whole  spirit  of  the  Constitution  and  of  the  articles  of  Union;  they  do 
all,  in  reference  to  the  subject,  which  the  world  has  a  right  to  expect 
from  them,  if  they  exert  all  the  moral  influence  at  their  command  in 
favour  of  emancipation.  Whether  they  do  so  or  not  is  the  point  to 
which  those  who  seek  to  involve  them  in  the  guilt  of  the  southern 
States,  should  injustice  confirie  themselves. 

But  it  may  be  urged,  that  Congress  should  have  been  invested  with 
the  whole  control  over  the  subject;  in  other  words,  that  the  American 
people,  as  an  entire  people,  should   have  retained  in  their  own  hands 
the  power  of  relaxing  or  abolishing  slavery  at  pleasure,  through- 
out   the    length    and    breadth    of   the    Republic.       The    permanent 
position  of  this  question,  in  the  political  arrangement  about  to  be 
formed,  was  one  of  the  many  subjects  which  occupied  the  public 
mind  at  the  time  of  the  adoption  of  the  Constitution;   and   the  pre- 
sumption is  certainly  in  favour  of  the  proposition  that,  in  determining 
as  they  did,  they  adopted  the  wisest,  if  not  the  only  practicable  course. 
It  is  indeed  difficult  to  see,  especially  when  we  consider  that  slavery, 
aside  of  moral  considerations,  resolves  itself  into  a  mere  question  of 
property,  how  the  framers  of  the  Constitution  could  have  withdrawn 
it  from  the  category  of  matters  of  purely  domestic  concern,  over 
which  each  State  was  to  have,  within  its  own  limits,  exclusive  juris- 
diction.    Having  thus  determined  the  character  of  the  question,  it 
was  impossible  for  them  to  bring  it  within  the  purview  of  the  powers 
delegated  to  the  general  government,  which  arose  out  of  a  particular 
necessity,  and  was  organized  for  a  particular  object.     And,  indeed, 
we  have  not  to  look  far  to  discover  that  there  were  positive  and  very 
cogent  reasons  for  exempting  slavery,  in  the  different  States  at  least, 
from  subjection  to  federal  authority.      None  have  more  reason  to  re- 
joice that  this  was  done,  than  have  the  friends  of  humanity.     But  for 
this  arrann:ement,  who  can  say  that  slavery  would  yet   have    been 
abolished  in  the  now  free  States  of  the  north?     Let  it  be  remembered 
that  the  power  to  abolish  slavery  in  the  hands  of  Congress  would 
have  implied  the  power  of  retainins:  it.     It  might  have  abolished  it  in 
Massachusetts,  and  retained  it  in  New  York;  or  it  might  have  per- 
petuated it  in  all  or  in  any  of  the  free  States.     Instead  of  being,  as 
now,  mistress  of  its  own  actions  with  regard  to  slavery  within  its  own 
territories,  each   State  in  dealing  with  it  would,  under  these  circum- 
stances, have  been  compelled  to  submit  to  the  will  of  the  whole.     In 
the  earlier  days  of  the  yet  youthful  Republic,  the  power  of  the  South 
was  considered  as  predominant.     The  South,  too,  has  always  re- 
garded with  jealousy  and   uneasiness  the  approach  of  emancipation 
to   its   borders;   and  what   more   probable  than   that  it  would    have 
thrown  every  obstacle  in  the  way  of  freedom  in  the  North,  had  any 
right  been  accorded  it  to  interfere.     But  for  the  independent  action 


272  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

of  each  State  with  regard  to  slavery,  emancii)ation  would  not  now 
iiave  been  the  law  of  one  moiety  of  the  Republic,  And  on  the  same 
action,  and  on  that  alone,  does  emancipation  now  depend  in  the 
South.  It  would  be  monstrous  as  well  as  impolitic,  on  the  part  of 
the  Northern  States,  to  attempt  now  to  effect  that  in  the  South  by 
coercion  and  interference,  the  attainment  of  which,  amongst  them- 
selves, they  owe  entirely  to  the  abstinence  from  all  interference  on 
the  part  of  their  neighbours.  Whatever  opinions,  therefore,  may 
be  entertained  as  to  the  political  propriety  of  the  arrangement  effected 
in  framing  the  Constitution,  the  cause  of  humanity  has  certainly  not 
lost  by  the  withdrawal  of  the  subject  of  slavery  in  the  different  States 
from  the  jurisdiction  of  Congress. 

Having  thus  put  the  reader  in  possession  of  the  question  in  its 
legal  and  constitutional  form,  and  having  glanced  at  the  powers  and 
incapacities  of  the  different  sections  of  the  Union  with  regard  to  it, 
I  shall  now  proceed  briefly  to  consider  how  far  the  North  has  made 
use  of  that  moral  influence,  which  it  is  competent  for  it  to  exert  for 
the  extinction  of  slavery  in  the  South.  And  here  let  me  at  once 
express  my  conviction,  that  the  intemperate  zeal  of  the  abolitionist 
wing  of  the  anti-slavery  party  has  done  more  to  retard,  than  the 
more  judicious  efforts  of  the  rest  of  that  party  have  done  to  accele- 
rate, emancipation.  Much  of  that  determined  opposition  with  which 
tlie  Abolitionists  are  met  in  the  South,  is  attributable  to  the  utter 
want  of  discretion  with  which,  individually  and  as  a  body,  they 
have  striven  for  the  attainment  of  their  object.  When  zeal  reachei 
a  certain  point,  it  becomes  blind  to  every  thing  but  its  purpose,  at 
whicii  it  dashes  headlong,  reckless  of  consequences,  and  deaf  to 
remonstrances.  Thus,  in  America,  an  ill-advised  philanthropy,  in- 
stead of  unlocking,  has  only  rivetted  more  firmly,  the  fetters  of  the 
slave.  Believing  that  the  letter  of  the  Constitution  confers  upon 
Congress  the  power  to  abolish  slavery  in  the  District  of  Columbia, 
they  have  urged,  and  still  urge  that  body  to  exercise  this  power,  re- 
gardless of  the  whole  spirit  in  which  the  Union  was  conceived. 
To  accede  to  their  wishes,  would  be  to  dissolve  the  whole  political 
fabric,  and  to  ruin  every  hope  that  slavery  may  yet  be  arrested  on 
the  continent.  Flat  jnstitht,  ruat  ccehtm.  But  who  would  accept  a 
small,  and  at'ter  all  a  questionable  benefit,  at  the  cost  of  a  certain  and 
permanent  evil?  In  carrying  the  warfare  into  tlie  slave  States  they 
have  been  equally  unsuccessful,  because  equally  indiscreet.  Their 
tone,  instead  of  being  persuasive,  has  been  dictatorial;  their  lan- 
guage, instead  of  being  that  of  conciliation,  has  been  inflammatory 
and  menacing.  At  first,  their  publications  were  numerous,  and 
their  emissaries  were  active,  in  the  slave  States  themselves;  but 
when  the  former  came  to  convey,  and  the  latter  to  pn  ach  doctrines 
which  were  utterly  incompatible  with  t^e  tranquiUity  of  the  country, 
it  is  no  wonder  that  the  one  was  suppressed  and  the  other  silenced — 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  273 

that  tlie  torch  was  taken  from  the  hands  of  those  who  were  ready 
to  explode  the  mine  in  which  they  themselves,  and  all  concerned, 
would  have  perislied  together.  To  preach  the  abstract  riglits  of  man 
to  a  numerous  and  ignorant  population  in  bondage,  and  to  press  upon 
them  the  right  to  achieve  their  freedom  at  any  cost,  might  have  been 
justitiable  on  general  principles,  but  it  was  certainly  not  the  way 
in  which  to  conciliate  the  masters  to  their  views — the  dominant 
class,  without  whose  concurrence  and  aid  nothing  effectual  could  be 
done.  They  should  have  recollected  that,  if  the  principles  on  which 
they  acted  were  divine,  the  objections  which  they  had  to  encounter 
were  human.  In  some  parts  of  the  country,  the  blacks  are  to  the  whites 
as  live  is  to  one.  Is  it  any  wonder  that,  under  these  circumstances, 
the  white  population  should  have  become  alarmed  at  proceedings, 
which, if  unchecked,  must  have  terminated  in  a  servile  insurrection? 
The  Abolitionists,  in  arousing  immediate  fears,  instead  of  appealing 
to  remote  consequences,  forgot  to  what  lengths  men  will  sometimes 
be  driven  in  consulting  their  own  safety.  They  themselves  con- 
jured up  an  immediate  danger,  either  real  or  imaginary,  which  the 
planters,  acting  on  the  defensive,  took  the  most  stringent  measures 
to  dissipate.  The  Abolitionists  were  proscribed,  their  doctrines 
branded  with  disrepute,  and  slavery  in  the  South  became  sterner 
than  ever  in  its  character,  and  more  revolting  in  its  aspect.  As  a 
natural  consequence,  moderate  councils  became  as  distasteful  as 
violent  doctrines;  and  the  tSouth,  assailed  without  allowance  of  dis- 
cretion, became  irritated  at,  and  jealous  of,  every  admonition  of  phi- 
lanthropy. The  fault  is  mainly,  if  not  exclusively,  their  own,  that 
the  South  is  now  hermetically  sealed  against  the  emissaries  of  abo- 
lition; and  another  instance  has  thus  been  added  to  the  many,  with.-- 
which  the  history  of  the  world  is  already  so  rife,  of  a  good  cause 
having  been  all  but  wrecked  by  the  intemperance  of  its  advocates. 

In  their  demands,  too,  the  Abolitionists  have  been  as  ill-advised 
as  they  have  been  in  their  mode  of  pushing  them.  Nothing  but  an 
impossibility  would  satisfy  them.  When  undertaken,  as  it  must 
be,  by  gradual  steps,  God  knows,  the  path  of  emancipation  in  the 
South  will  be  found  difficult  enough.  Immediate  emancipation  is 
a  chimera.  Yet  this  is  what  the  less  considerate  of  the  Abolitionists 
insist,  or  have  insisted,  upon.  They  forget  that  even  in  the  northern 
States,  where  slavery  never  obtained  a  very  extensive  footing,  and 
where  its  extirpation  was,  therefore,  a  comparatively  easy  task,  the 
\vork  of  abolition  proceeded  gradually  to  its  consummation.  And 
if  in  New  York,  New  Jersey,  and  Pennsylvania,  a  policy  of  grada- 
tion w^as  deemed  advisable,  ci  fortiori  should  it  be  that  alone  on  which 
the  South  should  be  urged  or  expected  to  embark.  It  is  to  this  that 
the  great  bulk  of  the  anti-slavery  party  would  drive  her,  from  po- 
litical, as  well  as  moral  considerations.  I  cannot  say  that  the  in- 
fluence, which  they  might  exert  for  this    purpose   is  as   steadily 


274  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

applied  as  it  slionld  be.  It  is  generally  in  connexion  with  political 
questions  that  it  is  called  into  active  exercise;  raising  and  subsiding 
with  the  occasion  which  calls  it  forth. 

Such  is  the  position  of  tfie  question  between  the  Americans  them- 
selves. But  it  is  not  simply  with  one  another  that  they  have  to  deal 
with  the  subject  of  slavery.  Tiie  Republic  is  arraigned  before  the 
bar  of  immanity,  and  has  a  question  to  settle  with  the  world.  It 
cannot  be  denied  that  appearances,  at  least,  are  against  it.  The 
people,  who  are  rather  ostentatious  than  otherwise  of  their  cham- 
pionship of  social  equality  and  political  freedom,  present  to  the  world 
the  startling  anomaly,  if  not  of  being  the  open  advocates,  of  being, 
at  least,  the  chief  abettors  of  slavery.  Their  professions  seem  in 
glaring  contrast  with  their  practice.  The  asylum  of  the  free  is 
the  prison  of  the  enslaved;  the  goddess  of  liberty  is  professedly 
worshipped,  but  the  demon  of  servitude,  at  the  same  time,  exten- 
sively sacrificed  to.  Under  these  circumstances  the  Americans 
should  not  be  surprised  that  the  current  of  opinion  should,  on  this 
point,  have  set  in  against  them  from  the  Old  World.  It  is  quite 
true  that  there  are  many  in  this  country,  whose  interest  and  pleasure 
it  is  to  aggravate  their  political  faults;  but  it  must  be  confessed  that 
there  is  enouo-h  on  the  surface  to  make  their  friends  and  well-vvishers, 
especially  those  who  have  neither  time  nor  opportunity  to  acquaint 
themselves  intimately  with  the  whole  subject,  if  not  loud  in  their 
condemnation,  at  all  events  dumb  in  their  defence. 

But  the  Americans  feel  that,  as  regards  the  question  between  them 
and  the  world,  their  case  is  one  not  wholly  devoid  of  justification. 
They  hold  that  an  impartial  inquiry  into  the  merits  of  the  case,  if 
it  will  not  lead  to  their  entire  acquittal,  will,  at  least,  mitigate  the 
severity  of  the  accusation.  Injustice  both  to  them  and  the  question, 
this  inquiry  should  not  be  refused.  Let  us  see,  then,  the  extent  to 
which  the  Americans  can  justify  themselves  before  the  world,  and 
the  cliaracter  of  their  defence. 

It  is  charged  upon  the  free  States  that  they  have,  after  all,  but 
imperfectly  eradicated  the  stain  from  themselves,  as  a  runaway 
slave  is  capable  of  being  reclaimed  in  any  of  them  by  his  owner. 
This  arises  from  a  clause  of  the  Constitution,  which  is  in  these 
words: — "  No  person  held  to  service  and  labour  in  one  State,  under 
the  laws  thereof,  escaping  into  another,  shall,  in  consequence  of  any 
law  or  regulation  therein,  be  discharged  from  such  service  or  labour, 
but  sliall  be  delivered  up,  on  claim  of  the  party  to  whom  such  ser- 
vice or  labour  may  be  due."  It  was  evidently  impossible  for  the 
southern  States,  so  long  as  slavery  retained  a  conspicuous  place 
amongst  their  institutions,  to  enter,  under  any  other  conditions,  into 
the  federal  compact  at  all.  If  a  slave  was  to  become  free  and  irre- 
claimable the  moment  he  entered  the  territory  of  any  State  which 
might  subsequently  become  free,  it  was  obvious  to  what  an  extent 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  275 

this  would  have  been  fraught  with  peril  to  the  institutions  of  the 
South.  The  whole  political  system  of  America  is  based  upon  mu- 
tual concessions,  and  this  was  one,  which,  if  it  was  not  right  in  the 
North  to  make,  it  was  at  least  reasonable  in  the  South  to  insist  upon. 
On  the  part  of  the  North,  it  was  one  of  those  elements  which  entered 
into  the  aggregate  cost  to  them  of  the  Union.  It  had  to  deal  dif- 
ferently, in  this  respect,  with  confederate  States  than  with  the  rest 
of  the  world.  The  necessity  under  which  the  concession  was  made 
to  the  States  of  the  South  is  obvious  from  the  fact,  that  it  is  denied 
10  all  others;  for  a  slave  escaping  into  New  York,  for  instance, 
from  a  foreign  country,  is  as  free  as  if  he  were  on  British  ground. 
If  it  is  urged  that,  in  England,  a  slave  escaped  from  her  own  colonies 
became  free;  it  is  replied,  that  there  is  a  great  difference  between 
dealing  with  dependent  Colonies  and  independent  confederate  States. 
Each  State  has  the  right  to  regulate  for  itself  the  mode  in  which, 
when  a  runaway  slave  is  claimed,  the  point  of  ownership  shall  be 
decided.  In  New  York  the  magistrates  have  power  to  decide;  in 
Vermont,  the  question  of  slave  or  no  slave  is  one  for  a  jury.  When 
a  slave  voluntarily  accompanies  his  master  into  a  free  State,  the 
ownership  of  the  latter  is  protected  for  a  given  time  by  the  laws  of 
the  State.     In  New  York  the  time  is  nine  months. 

The  Americans  remind  us,  in  the  next  place,  that  they  are  not 
responsible  for  the  origin  of  slavery  amongst  them.  It  is  on  the 
British  government  that  they  throw  the  heavy  charge  of  having  first 
planted  it  in  the  Colonies.  They  do  not  say  that,  in  all  cases,  the 
system  was  entailed  upon  them  against  the  wishes,  openly  expressed, 
of  the  colonists  themselves.  In  any  case  in  which  this  was  done, 
no  one  can  deny  the  sole  responsibility  of  the  mother  country  for 
the  origin  of  the  institution.  But  in  the  vast  majority  of  cases,  the 
colonists  were  not  unwilling  parties  to  its  introduction  amongst  them. 
In  all  these  cases,  the  mother  country  stood  only  in  the  position  of 
a  particeps  criminis.  But  the  Americans  contend  that,  in  either 
case,  whether  a  sole  or  divided  responsibility  rests  with  the  British 
government,  it  ill  becomes  the  British  people  to  be  their  accusers. 
This  looks  very  plausible,  until  it  is  considered  with  what  it  is  that 
they  are  accused.  The  continuance,  and  not  the  origin,  of  slavery  is 
the  stain  on  the  Republic,  which  elicits  here  the  surprise  of  some,  the 
regret  of  others,  and  the  condemnation  of  all.  Even  were  the  British/ 
government  exclusively  responsible  for  the  origin  of  the  evil,  by  no 
perversity  of  reasoning  can  it  be  charged  with  its  continuance.  What 
have  the  Americans  done  towards  its  removal,  during  the  seventy 
years  of  their  independence  ?  A  great  deal,  it  is  true;  but  have  they 
done  as  much  as  they  might  have  done,  or  as  the  world  reasonably 
expected  of  them?  All  honour  to  the  North  for  the  example  which 
it  has  so  nobly  set  to  the  Southern  section  of  the  Republic.  But  in 
according  it  the  merit  which  is  its  due,  it  must  not  be  forgotten,  that 


276  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

emancipation  in  the  North  was  a  matter  of  comparatively  easy  attain- 
ment. In  the  South  the  difficuliies  in  the  way  are  of  appallinj^  mag- 
iiilude.  But  whilst  the  North  has  done  every  thing,  has  the  South 
done  any  thing?  It  is  hy  the  decision  of  this  question  that  justice  is 
to  be  meted  out  to  the  South ;  and  even  those  most  leniend y  disposed 
are  forced  to  regard  the  decision  as  unfavourable  to  it.  The  diffi- 
culties  in  the  way  may  be  a  sufficient  answer  to  the  impracticable 
demands  of  tlie  abolitionists,  but  they  are  no  answer  to  the  great  bulk 
of  the  anti-slavery  party,  who  would  urge  the  South  into  a  career  of 
gradual  abolition.  Besides,  delay  on  the  part  of  the  South  in  moving, 
warrants  a  doubt  as  to  the  sincerity  of  its  intentions;  for  the  diffi- 
culties, which  are  now  great,  are  fast  becoming  insuperable.  The 
steps  which  have  latterly  been  taken  by  some  of  the  slave  States,  have 
been  rather  of  a  retrograde  than  of  a  progressive  character;  steps  which 
nothing  can  justify,  not  even  the  conduct  of  the  more  indiscreet  par- 
tisans of  abolition.  The  States  which  have  thus  moved  in  the  wrong 
direction,  have  incurred  a  double  guilt;  and  it  is  on  them  and  on  the 
States  which  have  refused  to  move  at  all,  that  the  concentrated  odium 
of  the  world  should  fall. 

In  reply,  again,  to  those  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic,  who  are  really, 
or  who  only  affect  to  be,  outraged  that  slavery  is  not  instantaneously 
abolished  in  the  Union,  the  Americans,  without  justifying  the  inert- 
ness of  some  of  the  slave  States,  simply  plead  the  difliculties  of  their 
position.  This  is  a  plea  to  the  cry  for  immediate  abolition,  which 
is  not  o-enerally  allowed  that  weight  with  us  to  which  it  is  justly  en- 
titled. If  we  say  that  we  made  a  successful  effort,  and  that  they 
might  do  the  same  if  they  were  really  in  earnest ;  they  reply,  that  the 
circumstances  of  the  two  cases  are  altogether  different.  We  dealt 
summarily  with  a  slight  complaint;  they  have  to  deal  cautiously  with 
an  aggravated  disorder.  With  us,  slavery  was  a  mere  local  ailment, 
affecting  some  of  the  extremities  of  the  empire;  with  them  it  is  a 
fever  which  pervades  the  entire  system,  which  is  in  its  blood,  and  is 
preying  upon  its  vitals.  When  their  political  and  social  institutions 
were  first  taken  into  their  own  hands,  as  an  independent  people,  they 
were  already  stricken  with  this  moral  leprosy,  which  yet  adheres  to 
them — a  blasting  and  a  withering  curse.  Such  as  were  least  im- 
pregnated with  the  disease  have  since  been  cured;  others  are  advan- 
cing, by  slow  processes,  towards  convalesccncy,  whilst  others  have 
apparently  resigned  themselves  to  the  malady  which  may  yet  over- 
power and  destroy  them.  But  at  once  to  root  out  slavery  from  the 
southern  States  is  as  hopeless  as  it  would  be  to  attempt  to  cure  the 
fevered  patient  in  a  breath. 

We  take  a  degree  of  credit  too  for  what  we  have  done  in  the  way 
of  emancipation,  wliich  the  Americans  are  not  willing  to  accord  us. 
When  they  compare  the  means  with  the  end,  tli(>y  hold  that  our 
achievement  was  not  so  very  wonderful  after  all.     What  was  the  evil 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  277 

to  be  cured?  The  servitude  of  a  comparatively  small  number  of  ne- 
groes in  a  few  distant  islands.  What  were  the  means  of  curing  it? 
The  resources  of  a  great  and  wealthy  empire,  to  the  whole  of  which, 
the  parts  affected  bore  but  a  very  slender  proportion.  And  what 
were  the  interests  to  be  affected  ?  Those  of  a  few  planters,  who 
constituted  the  merest  fraction  of  the  entire  population.  All  this 
must  be  reversed  to  get  at  the  true  state  of  the  case  in  America.  In- 
stead of  a  remote  and  petty  difficulty,  lake  a  great  evil  existing  in  our 
very  midst,  as  slavery  does  in  the  IJnited  States,  interweaving  itself 
with  the  political  and  social  institutions  of  one  half  of  the  Republic. 
Instead  of  remedial  resources,  immense  and  boundless  as  compared 
with  the  evil  to  be  removed,  take  means,  utterly  inadequate  to  the 
object  to  be  attained;  and  instead  of  a  few  fractional  interests  to  be 
affected,  take  those,  as  in  each  of  the  southern  States,  of  the  entire 
community.  These  are  the  points  of  divergence,  which  show  the 
two  cases  to  be  any  thing  but  parallel.  And  if  fifteen  years  have 
scarcely  yet  passed  since  the  whole  philanthropy  of  the  Britisii  Em- 
pire was  able  to  overcome  a  petty  interest,  and  to  extirpate  a  petty 
disorder ;  when,  they  ask,  would  it  have  been  equal  to  the  task,  had 
the  result  been  to  affect  the  general  interests  of  the  country  by  the 
sudden  subversion  of  an  institution,  existing  for  centuries  at  home — 
forming  part  and  parcel  of  our  political  scheme,  and  entering  even 
into  our  domestic  arrangements — constituting,  in  short,  one  half  of 
all  our  property,  and  having  the  value  of  the  other  half  dependent 
upon  its  continuance?  These  are  the  circumstances  in  which  we 
must  conceive  ourselves  to  be  placed,  if  we  would  fully  understand 
the  difficulties  in  the  way  of  emancipation  in  America.  Slavery 
might  yet  have  been  the  law  even  of  the  northern  States,  had  they 
had  one  tithe  of  these  difficulties  to  encounter.  In  these,  as  with  us, 
slavery  was  the  exception — in  the  southern  Stales  it  is  the  rule.  Let 
those,  then,  who  here  cry  shame  upon  them  for  not  immediately  libe- 
rating their  slaves,  bear  in  mind  that  their  liberation  would  affect  the 
vested  interests  of  a  whole  community — that  it  would  divest  most  of  / 
that  community  of  fully  one  half  of  their  property,  and  some,  indeed,  / 
of  all ;  for,  particularly  in  the  low  rice-growing  districts  on  the  Atlantic  ^ 
sea-board,  alluded  to  in  the  previous  chapter,  when  speaking  of  the 
configuration  of  that  part  of  the  continent,  property  would  be  of  no 
value  whatever,  were  there  no  slaves  to  cultivate  it.  This  does  not 
remove  or  even  extenuate  the  moral  guilt  of  slavery,  but  it  accounts  for 
the  indisposition  manifested  towards  immediate  abolition.  It  would 
be  a  truly  sublime  spectacle  to  see  a  whole  community  impoverish  it- 
self in  vindication  of  a  great  principle;  but  how  old  will  be  even  the 
Christian  era  before  such  a  spectacle  is  exhibited?  I  use  the  word 
"impoverish,"  because  it  is  an  illusion  to  dream  of  compensation  in 
America.  The  number  of  slaves  to  be  liberated  is  already  upwards 
of  three  millions,  the  compensation  for  whom,  at  the  same  rate  as 
VOL.  I. — 24 


1/ 


278  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

that  at  which  we  compensated  the  planters,  would  exceed  two-hun- 
dred millions  sterling! 

Some  of  the  writers  of  the  present  day,  who  are  too  enamoured 
of  their  own  mawkish  sentimentalities  to  make  any  question  the 
subject  of  patient  and  practical  inquiry,  are  constantly  taunting  the 
United  States  with  the  inconsistency  which  they  allege  to  exist  be- 
tween their  practice  and  iheir  professions,  as  contained  in  the  Decla- 
ration of  Independence.  That  document  proclaims  that  "all  men 
are  created  equal,"  and,  therefore,  it  is  urged,  it  behooved  the  United 
States  to  have  swept  away  all  the  inequalities  of  condition  which 
they  found  existing  at  the  date  of  their  independence.  But  all  that 
consistency  detnands  -i^,  that,  as  fast  as  possible,  without  endangering 
the  general  interests,  they  should  establish  a  coincidence  between 
their  practice  and  their  professions.  Are  men  to  be  prohibited  tmm 
laying  down  a  great  principle  because  they  cannot  at  once  carry  it 
into  effect ;  or  are  they  to  be  permitted  to  lay  it  down,  and  work  up 
to  it  with  all  practicable  speed  ?  I  have  no  desire  to  shelter  such  of 
the  Slates  as  have  acted,  and  are  still  acting,  in  direct  contradiction 
to  the  principles  on  which  they  established  their  independence  ;  but 
let  justice  be  done  to  such  as  faithfully  adhered  to  them,  and  embo- 
died them  in  their  subsequent  legislation.  The  principle  of  the  De- 
claration is  as  inimical  to  the  inequalities  of  condition  between  the 
members  of  the  white  race,  as  it  is  to  the  continuance  of  a  distinc- 
tion, in  any  of  the  States,  between  the  white  and  black  races.  The 
property  qualification,  as  a  provision  of  the  electoral  law,  was  a  vio- 
lation of  that  principle.  And  yet  it  was  only  from  time  to  time  that 
the  different  States  deemed  it  expedient  to  get  rid  of  that  qualifica- 
tion, and  to  establish  universal  suffrage  in  its  stead.  But  who,  be- 
fore this  was  done,  ever  heard  the  Declaration  of  Independence 
quoted  in  favour  of  the  unenfranchised  white  man  ?  Between  the 
white  man  so  circumstanced,  and  the  negro  slave,  the  difference  is 
one  of  degree,  not  principle.  If  the  continuance,  for  a  time,  of  the 
property  qualification  was  not  inconsistent  with  that  document,  nei- 
ther is  that  of  slavery  for  a  time,  when  il  is  more  inevitable  than 
voluntary.  I  admit  that  the  Americans  were  bound,  by  the  principle 
of  their  Declaration,  to  remove  all  civil  and  political  disabilities 
pressing  upon  the  white  man,  as  speedily  as  possible,  consistently 
with  the  interests  of  the  country ;  and  that  they  are  now  bound  to 
do  the  same,  as  fast  as  they  safely  can,  with  regard  to  the  blacks. 
But  I  deny  that  that  principle  demands  the  immediate  emancipation 
of  the  latter,  any  more  than  it  did  the  immediate  enfranchisement  of 
those  who  were  previously  disqualified,  amongst  the  former.  Strange 
to  say,  many  of  those  who  taunt  the  Americans  with  their  inconsis- 
tency, as  regards  the  negroes,  deplore  the  consistency  with  which 
they  have  acted  up  to  their  principle,  in  reference  to  the  whites. 

The  foregoing  will  suffice  to  convey,  however  imperfectly,  some 
idea,  at  least,  of  the  present  bearing  and  position  of  the  whole  ques- 
tion of  slavery,  both  as  regards  the  conflict  of  parties  respecting  it 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  279 

in  the  United  Slates,  and  the  merits  of  the  issue  which  it  raises  he- 
tween  tlie  RepnhHc  and  the  rest  of  the  world.  Greatly  as  the 
majority  of  the  American  people  deploie  the  imputations  which  it 
entails  upon  them,  and  the  scandal  which  it  casts  upon  free  institu- 
tions, their  anxieties  are  chiefly  concentrated  upon  its  probable  etTect 
on  the  destinies  of  the  Republic.  It  raises  a  political  problem, 
which  no  American  can  contemplate  with  inditTerence,  and  in  refer- 
ence to  which  (ew  dare  even  to  hazard  a  solution.  Ever  since 
the  formation  of  the  Union,  it  has  been  its  chief  and  constant  dif- 
ficulty, giving  rise  to  jealousies  and  disquietudes,  which  have,  more 
than  once,  perilled  its  existence.  Increasing,  as  the  evil  now  is, 
both  in  strength  and  magnitude,  the  future  becomes  more  lowering,  if 
not  more  uncertain,  every  hour. 

For  many  years  back,  aside  of  all  other  party  questions,  a  struggle 
has  been  constantly  maintained  to  keep  up  the  balance  of  power  be- 
tween the  free  and  slave  Slates.  This  was  comparatively  easy,  so 
long  as  the  one  interest  could  keep  pace  with  the  other,  in  the  admis- 
sion of  new  States  into  the  Union.  But  when  this,  as  it  is  about  to 
do,  ceases  to  be  the  case,  how  can  the  equipoise  be  preserved  ? 

The  Union  is  now  composed  of  thirty  diiferent  States,  fifteen  of 
which  are  free,  and  fifteen  slave-holding.  For  some  years  back,  new 
States  have  been  introduced  in  couples,  so  as  to  preserve  the  esta- 
blished equilibrium.  When  Michigan  was  introduced  as  a  free,  Ar- 
kansas came  in  as  a  slave.  State  ;  Iowa  was  a  free  sel-otrto  Florida, 
as  a  slave-holding  acquisition  ;  whilst  Wisconsin  was  balanced  against 
Texas.  With  the  exception  of  the  American  portion  of  Oregon, 
there  is  now  no  available  territory  in  the  north,  out  of  which  free  Slates 
may  be  created,  to  counterbalance  the  many  slave  States  which  may 
be  carved  out  of  the  immense  regions  which  are  regarded  as  open  for 
acquisition  in  the  South.  So  long  as  both  parties  could  play  at  State- 
making  against  each  other,  the  crisis  of  the  Slavery  question  was  in- 
definitely postponed.  But  this  game  is  about  to  cease,  and  the  whole 
subject  is  now  assuming  an  aspect  of  gravity,  such  as  it  has  never 
before  worn.  Passing  events  are  rapidly  magnifying  the  difliculty  ; 
and  the  free  communities  are  beginning  seriously  to  consider  the 
course  which  they  should  adopt,  in  the  event  of  certain  contingen- 
cies. A  large  accession  of  territory  in  the  south-west  will  be  a  cer- 
tain result  of  the  Mexican  war.*  If  slavery  is  to  be  extended  over 
this  new  territory,  the  northern  States  must  follow  one  of  these 
courses  : — they  must  seize  the  British  provinces,  dissolve  the  Union, 
or  resign  themselves  to  the  predominance  of  the  slave- holding  inte- 
rest in  the  councils  of  the  nation.  The  first  of  these  can  hardly  en- 
ter seriously  into  their  calculations  ;  to  the  last  they  will  not  submit, 
'i'iie  question,  then,  seems  to  lie  between  a  dissolution  of  the  Union, 
and  the  exemption  from  slavery  of  the  newly-acquired  territory.  But 
what  will  the  South  say  to  this  alternative  ?     With  a  group  of  free 

*  California  and  New  ^Mexico  have  since  been  annexed. 


280  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

States  already  on  her  northern  border,  she  would  reofnrd  with  apprr- 
liension  the  formation  of  another  such  group  upon  her  western  flank. 
Both  parties  have  thus  vital  interests  al  stake  ;  the  South,  her  domes- 
tic institutions  ;  and  the  Norili,  her  just  share  of  influence  in  the 
legislation  of  the  Union.  What  compromise  can  be  ciTecled  between 
interests  so  irreconcilable?  'JMie  feeUng  in  the  North  against  the  fur- 
ther extension  of  slavery  is  already  almost  strong  enough  to  urge  its 
inhal)itants,  if  necessary,  to  the  establishment  of  a  free  common- 
wealth of  their  own.  No  one  who  has  had  the  opportunity  of  can- 
vassing the  opinions  of  the  North  on  this  point,  can  shut  his  eyes  to 
the  fact,  that  it  is  fast  reconciling  itself  to  the  idea  of  such  a  change 
in  its  destiny.  It  is  being  disgusted  at  the  slow  progress  which  is 
being  made  towards  emancipation  by  sonie  of  the  slave  States,  and 
the  retrograde  policy  of  others  ;  and  has  long  been  annoyed  at  its 
reputed  partnership  in  the  guilt  of  those,  over  whom  it  has  in  reality 
no  contiol;  and  in  the  questionable  advantages  of  whose  guilt  it  has 
no  participation.  In  addition  to  tiiis,  the  material  interests  of  the 
North  are  more  or  less  implicated  in  the  question.  It  is  now  liable 
to  be  involved  in  all  the  evils,  expense  included,  of  having  to  quell  a 
servile  insurrection,  should  such  break  out.  As  slavery  extends  its 
area,  and  otherwise  increases  its  strength,  the  chances  of  outbreaks 
are  multiplied.  The  integrity  of  the  Union  is  one  of  the  prime  ob- 
jects of  an  American's  political  affections.  It  is  a  sentiment  from 
which  no  question  but  that  of  slavery  can  divorce  him  ;  and  th;it 
question  is  now  ftist  approaching  the  crisis,  which,  it  has  long  been 
foreseen,  will  be  the  great  test  of  the  strength  of  the  constitutional 
fabric.  If  the  North  could  see  its  way  through  the  difiiculty  without 
separation,  it  would  indignantly  discard  the  idea  of  dissolution.  It 
is  because  they  do  not  thus  see  their  way,  that  the  best  and  most  pa- 
triotic of  its  inhabitants  are  now  beginning  to  regard  as  probable,  tliat 
\vhich  they  have  loufj  wished  were  impossible.  How  will  the  ques- 
tion terminate?  W"\\\  the  North  yield?  Will  the  South  yield? 
Will  they  meet  each  other's  views,  and  both  yield?  In  such  case 
what  will  be  the  compromise  ?  Let  him,  who  can,  answer  these 
questions. 

It  would  be  a  singular,  yet  a  fitting  retribution,  if  the  war,  which 
the  present  administration  so  unjustifiably  jirovoked  with  Mexico, 
should  result  in  the  disintegration  of  the  Union. 

It  would  baffle,  1  trust,  the  most  determined  effort  at  misinterpre- 
tation, to  put  a  wrong  construction  upon  the  foregoing,  either  as  re- 
gards the  object  sought  to  be  atiaiued  by  it,  or  the  spirit  in  which  it 
has  been  conceived.  The  object  has  been  to  represent  things  as  they 
really  are,  to  give  a  true  pirtuie  of  a  veritable  case,  and  to  divest  a 
great  question,  on  which  the  judgment  of  the  world  should  alone  be 
exercised,  of  the  false  colouring  which  ignorance  and  prejudice  have 
given  it.  The  spirit  in  which  this  object  has  been  pursued,  is  that 
of  justice  ;  justice  to  the  guilty  as  well  as  to  the  innocent.  If  I  have 
pointed  out  those  whom  censure  should  spare,  1  have  also  designated 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  281 

those  on  wliom  it  slioukl  unreservedly  fall.     In  doing  this,  I  have 
adverted  to  the  position  and  views  of  parties  in  ren;ard  to  slavery   in 
America;  explained  the  legal  and  constitutional  question  with  which 
they  have  to  deal ;   pointed  out  those  who  alone  have  the  power  to 
interfere,  and  those  who  are  interdicted  from  interfering;  described 
what  has  already  been  done,  and  what  still  remains  to  be  done  ;  ex- 
posed the  difficulties  of  the  question,  which  constitute  the  defence  of 
the  South  only  against  the  zealots  at  home,  and  the  philanthropists 
abroad,  who  would  urge  her  to  instantaneous  abolition  ;  and  alluded, 
in  conclusion,  to  the  giowing  importance  of  the  question,  as  one  af- 
fecting the  entire  country,  and  involving  the   most  serious  political 
consequences  to  the  Union.     Having  done  so,  I  leave  the  reader  to 
Jiis  own  deductions  ;  contident,  however,  that   he  will  acknowledge 
the  injustice  of  involving  the  whole  people,  for  the  faults  of  a  sec- 
tion, in  indiscriminate  censure,  and  see  that  the  Northern  States  are 
no  more  responsible  for  the  social  and  political  vices  of  the  South, 
than  the  Canton  of  Berne  is  for  the  religious  intolerance  of  Fribourg, 
or  the  Germanic  Confederation  for  the  vagaries  of  the  Court  of  Ba- 
varia.* 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

SLAVERY, IN  ITS  SOCIAL,  MORAL,  AND  ECONOMICAL  ASPECT. 

Condition  of  the  Slaves  in  America. — Domestic  and  predial  Slaves. — Mild 
type  assumed  by  Slavery  in  Virginia.— Results  of  this. — Slavery  in  the 
Cotton-grov/ing  States. — Its  severity. — Social  and  Political  position  of  the 
Slaves.— Their  indirect  Influence  on  the  Representation.— Slaves  let  out  on 
Hire. — Destination  of  their  Earnings.— Vanity  of  the  Blacks.— Their  in- 
ordinate Passion  for  Dress. — Intellectual  and  Moral  Darknessof  the  Slave. — 
Religious  Frenzies.— Negro  Cunning  and  Deceit.— His  Light-heartedness. 
—Effects  of  Slavery  upon  Society  in  America.— Degradation  of  Labour  in 
the  South. — Effects  of  this  as  regards  the  White  Race. — Moral  Influence 
of  Slavery. — If  Slavery  be  Disadvantageous,  why  is  it  not  got  rid  of? — 
Difficulties  in  the  way. — The  Antipathy  of  Race. — Its  important  bearing 
on  the  question  of  Emancipation. — A  War  of  Races  inevitable. — The  Catas- 
trophe now  only  postponed.— -Results  of  the  Conflict,  when  it  arises. — 
Economical  Demerits  of  Slavery. — Proofs  of  these. — Experience  and  Pros- 
pects of  Virginia  in  this  respect. — Anxiety  of  the  South  to  extend  the  area  of 
Slavery. — Effect  of  Emancipation  on  the  price  of  raw  Cotton. — Conclusion. 

Having  disposed  of  the  question  of  Slavery  in  its  political  aspect, 
I  now  proceed  to  consider  it  in  its  social,  moral,  and  economical 
bearings. 

*The  annexation  of  California  and  New  Mexico,  since  the  foregoing  was 
written,  will  have  an  important  bearing  upon  the  whole  question  of  slavery, 
which  will  be  adverted  to  in  the  concluding  chapter  of  this  work. 

24^ 


282  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

In  dealing  willi  the  subject  in  its  social  and  moral  phase,  it  nnay 
be  as  well,  lirsl,  to  advert  to  the  actual  condition  of  the  slaves  them- 
selves, and  then  glance  at  the  general  eflects  of  the  institution  upon 
the  society  in  the  midst  of  which  it  exists. 

As  is  always  tlie  case  wiiere  slavery  is  to  be  found,  the  slaves  in 
the  United  Slates  are  divided  into  two  classes,  domestic  and  predial; 
and  the  institution  partakes  of  its  milder  or  more  relentless  features, 
according  lo  the  predominance  of  the  one  or  the  otiier  of  these  classes 
in  a  Slate.  Taking  the  slave  States  throughout,  the  predial  slaves 
vastly  outnumber  those  who  are  held  to  domestic  bondage;  and  it  is 
this  great  predominance  of  predial  servitude  that  gives  its  general 
character  to  the  institution  of  slavery  in  America.  'I'he  proportion 
between  the  two  classes  of  slaves  I'TeaUy  varies  in  the  diilerent 
States.  In  Georgia,  Alabama,  and  Mississippi,  the  vast  majority 
are  held  to  field  and  out-door  work  ;  whilst  in  Virginia  and  Ken- 
tucky, the  numbers  of  the  two  classes  are  more  nearly  equalized. 
In  Virginia  particularly,  the  class  of  domestic  slaves  is  very  nume- 
rous, as  is  also  the  case  in  Maryland;  although  in  the  latter,  the 
slaves  engaged  in  field  labour  bear  a  greater  proportion  to  those  in 
merely  domestic  servitude  than  in  the  former. 

It  is  naturally  lo  be  expected  that,  in  those  States  in  M'hich  the 
number  of  domestic  slaves  is  greatest,  in  proportion  to  the  whole 
number  held  in  bondage,  the  system  should  develop  itself  in  iis 
mildest  form.  This  is  pre-eminently  so  in  Virginia;  and  if  the 
stranger  penetrates  no  further  into  the  slave  States,  he  is  very  apt  to 
regard  slavery  with  less  abhorrence  than  he  might  formerly  have 
entertained  for  it.  'J'he  principle  is  equally  objectionable  under 
whatever  form  it  exhibits  itself;  but  if  there  is  any  thing  in  the  prac- 
tical working  of  the  system  calculated  lo  reconcile  one  in  the  least 
degree  to  its  principle,  it  will  be  found  in  the  mild  aspect  which  it 
has  assumed  in  Virginia.  There  is  this  in  favour  of  domestic  slavery, 
that  the  master  and  bondman  are  less  frequently  separated  than  the  ► 
predial  slave  is  from  his  owner.  The  agricultural  slave  is,  in  innu-  I 
merable  instances,  frequently  transferred  from  master  to  master,  the  T 
object  of  each  being  to  extract  from  him  as  much  work  as  possible  ; 
whilst  domestic  slaves  frequently  remain  for  generations  on  the  same 
property,  and  in  subjection  to  the  same  family.  Even  when  the 
out-door  slave  continues  for  life  in  tiie  same  ownership,  it  is  but 
seldom  that  he  comes  in  contact  with  his  master,  ami  when  he  does 
so,  it  is  only  when  the  master  himself  undertakes  the  duty  of  the 
overseer,  to  whose  merciless  superintendence  slaves  of  his  class  are 
generally  intrusted.  The  case  is  diilerent,  however,  in  Virginia, 
where  the  parties  frequently  continue  for  life  in  the  relation  of  master 
and  servant,  and  are  coming  constantly  in  personal  contact  with 
each  other.  A  mutual  attachment  is  thus  engendered  between  them  ; 
and  instead  of  grinding  oppression  on  the  one  side,  and  smothered 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  283 

hate  'on  the  other,  kindly  sympathies  spring  up,  and  the  humanity 
of  the  master  is  rewarded  by  the  love  of  the  dependent.  1  have  fre- 
quently witnessed  the  length  to  which  this  attachment  on  both  sides 
may  be  carried,  so  as  to  render  the  tie  between  the  parties  indis- 
soluble, the  master  refusing  on  any  consideration  to  part  with  the 
slave,  and  the  slave  refusing,  under  every  circumstance,  to  quit  his 
master;  turning  a  deaf  ear,  as  the  latter  does,  in  numerous  instances, 
to  the  Abolitionists,  who,  when  they  find  him  in  a  free  State  with 
his  master,  endeavour  to  seduce  him  from  his  allegiance.  Slaves  of 
this  class  generally  live  under  the  same  roof  as  the  family  whom 
they  serve,  and  amongst  the  different  members  of  which  they  are, 
as  already  noticed,  frequently  apportioned.  They  are  well  clothed 
and  well  fed;  and  the  labour  which  they  undergo  is,  in  amount,  far 
inferior,  generally  speaking,  to  that  to  which  domestic  servants  in 
England  are  subjected.  When  seen  only  in  this  aspect,  slavery  ap- 
pears to  be  more  a  theoretical  than  a  practical  infliction.  If  the 
sentiment  of  freedom  be  not  dead  within  the  slave,  he  has  much  in 
the  unstinted  store  of  physical  comforts  which  surround  him,  to 
repay  him  for  the  deprivation  of  abstract  liberty.  The  possession 
of  the  abstract  idea  is  all  that  the  free  labourer  of  Europe  has  to  re- 
commend a  condition,  which  in  most  cases  is,  in  every  thing  else, 
inferior  to  the  condition  of  the  domestic  class  of  American  bondmen. 

But,  unfortunately,  this  is  not  the  only  side  which  slavery  has 
to  exhibit.  It  appears  in  its  true  light,  in  its  real  character,  in  all 
its  revolting  atrocities,  in  the  cotton-growing  States.  Whatever 
hideousness  may  be  imparted  to  it  by  severity  of  toil  and  brutality 
of  treatment,  it  there  assumes  without  a  mask.  Badly  housed,  and 
not  unfrequently  scantily  fed,  the  wretched  slaves  are  driven,  morn- 
ing after  morning,  in  hordes  to  the  fields,  where  they  labour  till 
night-fall  beneath  a  burning  sun,  and  under  the  eyes  and  the  lashes 
of  superintendents,  against  whom  they  dare  not,  however  well 
founded,  prefer  a  complaint.  To  the  unfeeling  severity  which  cha- 
racterizes the  servitude  of  these  States,  there  are,  in  the  conduct  of 
many  planters,  very  honourable  exceptions.  It  is  natural  for  an 
American,  even  when  loud  in  his  condemnation  of  the  system  at 
home,  to  gloss  over,  in  his  converse  with  mankind,  its  worst  fea- 
tures, for  his  country's  sake;  but  the  candour  of  every  American 
citizen  who  has  travelled  in  the  South  will  bear  me  out  in  the  asser- 
tion, that,  in  the  practical  working  of  slavery  in  the  cotton-growing 
districts,  humanity  is  the  exception,  and  brutality  the  rule.  It  is 
unnecessary  to  dwell  any  longer  upon  this,  or  to  specify  the  horrors 
which  I  myself  have  witnessed,  and  which  would  only  be  counter- 
parts to  the  frightful  catalogue,  at  the  recital  of  which  the  better 
feelings  of  our  nature  have  already  so  often  revolted. 

The  slaves  in  America  have  their  determinate  place  in  the  social 
scheme;   and  yet  it  seems  to  savour  of  anomaly  to  speak  of  their 


284  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

social  Standi  nor.  Tliey  have  few  social,  and  no  political  privileges, 
whatever  consideration  is  attached  to  them,  of  the   one  kind  or  the 

/  other,  havinjr  a  reference  more  to  the  interests  of  their  owners  than 
of  themselves.  A  slave  is  protected  by  law  in  life  and  limb,  but 
more  witii  a  view  to  the  protection  of  his  master's  property,  tiian  to 
the  secure  enjoyment  of  his  own  "inalienable  rights."  In  few  of 
the  slave  States  can  a  white  man  be  criminally  convicted,  on  the 
testimony  of  slaves.  There  may  be  reasons  why,  in  a  state  of  so- 
ciety  like  that  which  the  South  presents,  objection  might  be  taken 
to  a  slave's  credibility  as  a  witness;  but  no  polity  can  justify  a 
sweeping  objection  to  his  competency  as  one.  One  shudders  to 
think  of  the  number  of  crimes  of  every  intensity  of  dye,  which  may, 
and  which  do,  ^o  unpunished  for  want  of  white  testimony,  where- 

^wilh  to  inculpate  the  ouihy  parly.  There  is  a  necessity  for  making 
some  distinction,  else  the  lives  and  the  reputation  of  the  whiles 
would,  in  many  cases,  be  sworn  away  out  of  sheer  revenge;  but  it 
is  one  of  the  curses  of  the  system,  that  it  can  only  prevent  one  evil 
by  resorting  to  another;  that  it  can  only  protect  the  whites,  by  the 
infliction  of  another  monstrous  injustice  upon  the  blacks.  Whatever 
may  be  the  advantages  of  the  political  weight  which  the  Constitution 
attaches  to  the  slaves,  they  are  not  permitted  to  share  them.  Il  is 
for  the  benefit  of  the  free  race,  one  way  or  another,  that  they  are 
noticed  in  that  document.     And  when  they  are  so,  it  is  not  by  i\u>  ' 

term  "  slaves,"  but  by  the  periphrase,  "persons  held  to  labour  or 
service."  The  framers  of  the  (Constitution  were  either  very  con- 
fident or  very  sentimental.  Looking  forward  to  the  speedy  extir- 
pation of  slavery,  they  would  not  sully  the  federal  charter  by  in- 
cluding the  word  in  the  text  of  any  of  its  paragraphs.  Until  ;ill 
were  free,  they  deemed  it  advisable  to  call  slavery  by  another  name. 
Had  they  been  framing  the  Constitution  to-day,  instead  of  about  the 
close  of  last  century,  their  sentimentality  might  be  quite  as  great,  but 
their  hopes  would  scarcely  be  as  strong.  In  apportioning  the  re- 
presentation in  the  Lower  House  of  Congress  amongst  the  dillerent 
States,  the  extent  of  the  population  in  each  is  taken  as  the  basis  of 
the  apportionment.  In  the  slave  States,  the  extent  of  the  population 
is  ascertained  by  adding  to  the  whole  number  of  free  persons  three- 
fifths  of  all  the  slaves  ;  and  according  to  the  number  thus  ascertained, 
is  the  extent  of  the  representation  of  each  slave  Slate  in  Congress. 
It  is  scarcely  necessary,  however,  to  say  that,  although  the  slaves 
enter  largely  into  the  scheme,  they  have  no  share  whatever  in  the  | 

reality  of  representation,     'i'he  result  is,  that  the  free  citizen  in  tho  J 

slave  States  is  doubly  represented;  in  the  first  place,  personally,  like  | 

his  fellow  citizen  in  the  north,  and  in  the  next,  by  virtue  of  threo- 
fifihs  of  his  property.  But  if  this  arrangement  has  its  advantages, 
it  has  also  its  drawbacks,  as  all  direct  taxes  are  to  be  apportioned  on 
tlie  same  principle  as  the  representation.  I  know  of  no  direct  tax, 
however,  which  the  general  (Government  now  levies. 


I 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  285 

A  state  of  servitude  implies  an  incapacity  to  hold  or  to  acquire 
property.  The  slave,  being  himself  the  property  of  his  master, 
draws  legally  after  him,  into  his  master's  possession,  every  thing 
which  might  else  appertain  to  himself.  Not  only  can  he,  strictly 
speaking",  earn  nothing  for  himself,  but  he  is  also  incapable  of  be- 
coming the  recipient,  to  his  own  benefit,  of  a  pure  donation.  In 
few  countries,  however,  where  slavery  exists,  is  the  law,  in  this  re- 
spect, rigidly  carried  out.  It  certainly,  as  a  general  rule,  is  not  so  in 
the  United  States.  It  is  true  that  the  master  sometimes  avails  him- 
self of  the  absolute  property  which  he  thus  has  in  the  slave,  and  in 
all  that  he  can  produce,  when  he  himself  is  not  in  need  of  his  labour, 
to  let  him  out  on  hire  to  others,  confiscating  his  earnings  to  his  own 
uses.  This  is  a  practice  which  extensively  prevails  in  the  District 
of  Columbia,  particularly  in  Washington.  The  hotel  at  which  I 
took  up  my  quarters  in  that  city,  was  provided  with  none  but  black 
servants, — all  slaves,  who,  with  some  few  exceptions,  were  on  hire. 
They  came  to  duty  at  a  certain  hour  in  the  morning,  many  of  them 
returning  home  at  a  particular  hour  at  night  to  their  respective 
owners.  By  eight  o'clock  at  night  all  slaves  must  be  housed;  and 
any  found  abroad  after  that  hour,  without  being  able  to  give  a  proper 
explanation,  are  liable  to  be  challenged  by  any  one,  and  brought  be- 
fore the  authorities.  This  curtew  law  is  not  confined  to  the  Dis- 
trict of  Columbia.  But  it  not  untrequently  happens  that,  to  encou- 
rage them,  their  owners  only  appropriate  to  themselves  the  earnings 
of  a  certain  number  of  hours  per  day,  or  of  days  per  week,  leaving 
the  remainder  at  their  own  disposal. 

It  is  customary,  too,  particularly  for  those  who  employ  their  own 
slaves  in  handicraft  operations,  to  give  them  a  set  daily  task,  and  to 
pay  them  for  any  extra  work  over  and  above  that  thus  aj)portioned 
to  them.  Lord  though  he  be  of  all  his  bondman's  energies,  the 
master  finds  this  system  work  to  his  advantage,  as  it  stimulates  to 
the  accomplishment  of  a  thorough  day's  work,  one  who  would 
otherwise  scarcely  exert  himself  to  the  extent  of  half  his  powers. 
In  one  of  the  tobacco  factories,  at  Richmond,  I  saw  a  tall,  athletic 
man  at  work  under  the  influence  of  this  stimulus.  He  was  mar- 
ried ;  had  already  purchased  his  wife's  freedom,  and  was  then  la- 
bouring for  the  means  of  acquiring  his  own.  His  expertness  and 
activity  were  extraordinary,  sometimes  earning  for  him,  by  extra 
work,  no  less  than  ten  dollars  a  week.  They  certainly  do  not  all 
make  so  good  a  use  of  the  means  which  they  thus  and  otherwise 
procure,  strange  though  it  may  appear,  their  vanity  being,  in  most 
cases,  an  overmatch  for  their  discretion.  This  weakness  with  them 
exhibits  itself  principally  in  dress.  Talk  of  a  Bond-street  dandy  ! 
he  is  nothing  to  a  full-blown  negro  in  Washington  or  Philadelphia 
on  a  holiday.  There  is  something  intensely  ludicrous  in  his  cox- 
combry, as,  with  gloved  hands,  flaunting  frills,  an  enormous  display 


^ 


286  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

of  spotless  linen  about  his  sable  cheeks,  and  with  a  dross  of  super- 
fine broad  cloth,  cvidcnily  of  the  latest  cut,  he  ffocs  stalking  along-, 
switching  his  cane,  and  indifferent  to  the  ridicule  he  excites — ^as 
vain  as  a  turkey,  and  as  gaudy  as  a  sun  flower.  This  passion  for 
dress  exhibits  itself,  if  possible,  with  tenfold  intensity  amongst  the 
females.  Often  have  I  walked  on  a  hot  summer  day,  in  the  streets 
of  the  capital,  behind  a  mass  of  faultless  muslins  and  other  "stufls," 
which  enter  into  the  composition  of  ladies'  aitire,  neatly  arranged 
over  a  form  well  rounded  and  graceful;  and  on  turning  partly  round 
to  steal  a  glance  at  the  exquisite  face,  which  my  imagination  had 
pictured  as  necessarily  forming  part  and  parcel  of  this  otherwise 
attractive  exterior,  been  startled  at  encounteringf  the  rolling  eve,  flat 
nose,  and  thick  protruding  lips  of  a  stalwart  negress,  as  black  as  if 
the  sun  of  Guinea  had  shone  upon  her  but  the  day  before.  This 
inordinate  passion  for  dress  develops  itself  in  the  whole  race,  free 
or  bond.  Of  course,  such  as  are  frte  have  the  greatest  opportunities 
of  gratifying  it;  and  the  mode  in  which  it  is  gratified,  enters  not  a 
little  into  the  covp-d'ceil  of  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  Chestnut  Street, 
and  Broadway. 

If  the  physical  necessities  of  the  slave  are,  in  numerous  cases, 
well  cared  for,  his  intellectual  and  moral  wants  are,  in  almost  all, 
most  culpably  neglected.  Servitude  cannot  long  co-exist  with  in- 
telligence ;  and  to  keep  the  slave  from  the  path  of  freedom,  it  is 
necessary  to  deprive  him  of  those  moral  lights  by  which  fiis  steps 
might  be  directed  into  it.  This  is  a  conviction  which  larojelv  in- 
Alienees  the  policy  of  the  South,  and  which  has,  in  mf)st  of  the  slave 
States,  raised  a  legislative  barrier  against  every  efl'ort  to  enlifjhten 
the  mental  and  moral  darkness  of  the  negro.  The  domestic  slaves 
may,  as  individuals,  but  certainly  not  as  a  class,  present  exceptions 
to  the  unrelieved  stolidity  and  ignorance  which  characterize  the 
race;  for  it  is  seldom  that  the  education  even  of  a  household  slave 
transcends  the  line  of  his  daily  duties.  It  is  almost  impossible  to 
conceive  the  utter  intellectual  vacuity  to  which  the  predial  slave  is 
doomed  ;  his  deprivation,  in  many  cases,  extending  even  to  those 
elementary  religious  teachings  which  are  of  such  moment  even  to 
the  meanest  of  mankind.  It  is  not  usual  to  find  things  carried  to 
this  culpable  extent  in  the  towns,  where  the  slaves  are  more  in  the 
habit  of  meeting  each  other  than  they  are  upon  isolated  country 
estates,  and  where  fewer  impediments  are  successfully  thrown  in  the 
way  of  religion  and  humanity.  In  the  towns  you  sometimes  find 
them  well  provided  with  churches,  but  rarely  with  schools;  the 
children  beiuL?  indebted  to  the  Sundav-school  f^r  such  education  as 
they  receive,  both  secular  and  religious,  which  is  in  general,  in  nei- 
ther case,  of  a  very  sterling  quality.  They  have  their  own  preacii- 
ers,  and  generally  attach  themselves  to  the  more  enthusiastical  and 
fanatical  sects.     1  have  found  them  Presbyterians,  Baptists,  Metiio- 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  287 

dists,  and  Latter-Day  Saints,  but  never  Episcopalians.  A  black, 
priest  in  lawn  sleeves  would  bring  scandal  on  the  Episcopal  body. 
Except  in  times  of  religious  excitement,  when  the  most  disgusting 
scenes  are  enacted,  and  the  most  frantic  and  blasphemous  ravings 
are  uttered  in  their  conventicles,  under  the  supposed  influence  of  the 
Spirit,  their  worship  is  conducted  with  tolerable  order  and  decorum, 
although  it  is  not  always  practicable  to  suppress  the  smile  to  which 
the  extraordinary  fancies  of  the  preacher  will  give  rise.  In  times 
of  revival  they  sometimes  become  roused  into  a  state  of  uncon- 
trollable frenzy,  when  they  neglect  their  duties,  and  become  trouble- 
some and  unmanageable.  It  was  in  allusion  to  this  that  a  Virginian 
very  naively  once  said  to  me,  that  "  it  was  the  greatest  misfortune 
that  could  happen  to  them  to  have  a  nigger  turn  Christian." 

The  mind  denied  a  proper  and  healthful  development  is  apt  to 
take  refuge  in  deformity.  Where  there  is  soil  there  is  production. 
Weeds  spring  up  where  a  growth,  useful  or  ornamental,  is  not  che- 
rished. Thus  it  is  that  the  mind  of  the  slave,  deprived  by  law  of 
all  proper  instruction,  becomes  strongly  impregnated  with  cunning 
and  deceit.  These,  with  falsehood,  are  the  only  weapons  which  he 
possesses,  with  which  to  avenge  himself  on  his  oppressor.  It  is 
seldom,  except  when  a  mutual  attachment  happens  to  exist  between 
them,  that  the  master  and  the  slave  have  any  confidence  in  each 
other;  the  one  commands,  the  other  obeys  through  fear.  The  moral 
obliquity  which  usually  characterizes  the  slave,  is  common,  to  some 
extent,  to  the  free  negroes  of  the  North.  Although  politically  free, 
the  latter  are  far  from  being  on  a  footing  of  social  equality  with  the 
white  race,  towards  whom  they  more  or  less  demean  themselves  as 
do  the  slaves  towards  their  masters.  Although  some  in  the  free 
States  profess  to  be  partial  to  negro  servants,  the  great  majority, 
sooner  than  have  any  thing  to  do  with  them,  submit  to  the  humours 
and  caprices  of  servants  of  their  own  race. 

Notwithstanding  the  weight  with  which  oppression  bears  upon 
them,  and  the  cruelties  to  which  they  are  subjected,  the  negroes  in 
America  exhibit  a  light-heartedness  which  is  surprising.  To  the 
great  bulk  of  them  freedom  is  a  hopeless  aspiration ;  the  very  desire 
for  it  is  systematically  subdued  in  their  breasts;  and  they  are  happy 
if  their  physical  wants  are  supplied,  and  they  are  not  overtasked 
with  labour.  Having  no  future  to  live  for,  they  make  the  present  as 
merry  as  possible.  Of  singing  and  dancing  they  are  inordinately 
fond,  propensities  in  which  policy  dictates  that  they  should  be  en- 
couraged rather  than  interfered  with.  The  banjo,  a  sort  of  rude 
guitar,  is  their  chief  instrumental  accompaniment ;  whilst  in  dancing, 
proficiency  with  them  seems  to  consist  in  making  an  elaborate  use 
of  the  heel.  Their  voices  are  generally  good  and  well  trained  by 
themselves;  their  airs  are  simple  and  frequently  touchingly  plain- 
tive.    It  is  amusing  to  witness  the  zest  with  which  on  a  summer- 


289  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

evening,  after  the  work  of  the  clay  is  over,  they  will  thus  enjoy  them- 
selves  in  groups — some  singing,  some  playing  on  instruments,  jab- 
bering, grinning,  and  frantically  gesticulating  at  the  same  time,  and 
others  dancing  with  an  earnestness  which  would  lead  one  to  the 
belief  that  they  considered  it  the  main  business  of  life.  But  all  this 
playfulness  of  disposition  is  sometimes  only  a  mask  used  to  conceal 
a  burning  thirst  for  vengeance,  which  is  sometimes  gratitied  under 
circumstances  of  the  most  dreadful  atrocity. 

Slavery,  considered  in  connexion  with  the  influence  which  it  ex- 
ercises upon  society,  develops  in  America  all  the  vicious  tendencies 
with  which  it  has  ever  been  characterized.  Whether  its  consequences, 
in  this  respect,  are  considered  in  an  economical  or  a  social  point  of 
view,  they  are  found  to  be  equally  prejudicial. 

In  many  particulars  society  in  the  South  differs  materially  from 
the  manifestation  of  it  which  is  found  in  the  North.  In  the  latter, 
activity  takes  the  place  of  refinement;  in  the  former,  refinement 
takes  the  place  of  activity.  As  there  is  no  want  of  refinement  in 
the  North,  so  there  is  no  absolute  want  of  activity  in  the  South;  but 
the  one  is  characteristic  of  northern  society,  as  the  other  is  of  that 
of  the  south ;  and  in  this  one  particular  of  refinement  alone,  is  the 
result  of  slavery  on  southern  society  in  the  least  degree  favourable. 
For  this  one  benefit  it  sacrifices  to  slavery  every  other  advantage.  I 
have  elsewhere  shown  how  the  superior  refinement  of  southern 
manners  is  directly  attributable,  in  part,  to  the  existence  of  slavery. 
The  activity  which  pervades  the  North  is  greatly  to  be  attributed  to 
its  absence,  making  every  man  feel  the  necessity  of  self-reliance, 
and  driving  men  to  do  that  properly  for  themselves,  which  forced 
labour  would  do  but  sluggishly  and  imperfectly  for  them.  Jl 

It  is  not  an  absolute  torpor  which  has  fallen  upon  the  European  ^H 
race  in  the  South.  There  is  no  reason  why  their  energies  should 
be  greatly  inferior  to  those  of  their  northern  fellow-countrymen,  nor 
am  I  aware  that  they  are;  the  difference  is  in  this,  that  their  respec- 
tive eneriries  are  directed  into  different  channels.  The  southerner 
very  often  prosecutes  his  amusements  as  actively  as  the  northerner 
engages  in  sterner  occupations.  But  the  reason  why  the  activity  of 
the  North  is  so  much  more  visible  than  that  of  the  South,  aside  of 
the  fact  that  it  is  a  more  numerous  community,  all  being  employed, 
is,  that  whilst  the  southerner's  energies  are  generally  devoted  to  pur- 
suits which  leave  little  or  no  trace  behind  them,  those  of  tiie  northern 
citizen  are  applied  to  objects  which  both  lake  and  perpetuate  the 
impress  of  industry. 

For  all  truly  industrial  purposes,  the  energies  of  the  white  race 
in  the  South  might  be  as  well  utterly  extinguished.     They  have  a 
triple  reason  for  abstaining  from  labour,  unknown  in  the  rest  of  the 
J     Union.     They  have,  in  the  first  place,  an  enervating  climate  as  com- 
pared with  that  of  the  northern  States;  in  the  next,  they  are  sur- 


THjE  WESTEiaN  WORLD.  SS9 

foundecl  with  hordes  oF  human  beings,  who  are  fed  and  clothed  for 
ihe  sole  purpose  of  working  for  them;  and  in  the  next,  whicli  is  the 
most  powerful  reason  of  alU  labour  is  considered  degrading  and  dis- 
honourable. In  the  North  the  very  opposite  feeling  obtains.  There 
is  no  class  there  exempt  from  work;  and  a  perfectly  idle  man,  par- 
ticularly if  a  young  man,  gets  rather  into  discredit  than  otherwise. 
Where  all  are  employed,  none  can  consider  it  a  degradation  to  be 
so;  and  such  is  the  eager  pursuit  of  material  well-being  in  the  North, 
that  there  are  few  who  can  work  as  much  as  they  would  like  to  do. 
But  in  the  South,  where  there  is  an  aristocracy  of  idleness,  few 
whites  have  the  courage  to  descend  to  the  level  of  labour.  When 
to  this  is  added  the  aristocracy  of  race,  which,  when  the  two  races 
meet,  really  seems  to  have  its  foundation  in  nature  itself,  and  when 
the  inferior  and  degraded  race  is  alone  the  labouring  one,  the  de- 
scent is  still  greater,  being  not  only  that  from  a  wealthy  and  an  idle 
to  an  industrious  class,  but  also  to  an  identification  with  a  race  in 
every  way  debased,  and  who  are  treated  as  if  it  was  their  highest 
privilege  to  labour  for  their  masters.  This  much  at  least  the  South 
owes  to  slavery,  that  the  white  man,  however  needy,  cannot  work 
for  his  bread  without  putting  himself,  in  a  social  point  of  view,  on  a 
level  with  the  slave. 

Nowhere  can  the  unfortunate  result  of  this  be  better  traced  than 
in  Virginia.     Since  the  abolition  of  the  law  of  primogeniture,  the 
large  estates,  which  were  once  so  numerous  in  that  State,  have  in 
many  instances  gradually  dwindled  away,  the  descendants  of  those 
who  once  possessed  them  retaining  all  the  pride,  but  without  any  of 
the  means  of  their  ancestors.     Many  of  these,  reduced  to  want,  have 
preferred  subsisting  on  the  bounty  of  their  friends  to  working  for  a 
livelihood.     Others,  more  manly  and    independent,  have  betaken 
themselves  to  honest  employments,  but  to  seek  them  have  quitted 
their  native  State,  and  gone  where,  by  their  own  industry,  they  could 
push  their  own  fortunes  without  being  degraded  by  so  doing.     This 
is  one  reason  why,  whilst  the  population  of  the  northern  and  west- 
ern States  is  so  rapidly  on  the  increase,  the  white  population  of 
Virginia  has  recently  actually  receded.     But  the  numbers  who  are 
being  gradually  driven  to  employment  in  Virginia  are  now  so  great 
as  to  necessitate  an  effort  to  rescue  labour  from  its  present  disrepute. 
In  this  the  Virginians  are  aided  by  the  energetic  whites,  who  emi- 
grate to  their  State  from  the  north ;  and  who,  finding  a  wide  field 
for  their  enterprise,  where  the  labour  of  the  slave  is  the  only  com- 
petition which  they  encounter,  disregard  all  local  prejudices,  and  set 
the  Virginians  an  example  which  many  of  them  are  glad  to  follow. 
An  important  branch  of  the  subject  is  that  connected  with  the 
moral  influence  of  slavery.     Where  has  this  ever  been  favourable? 
The  difference  between  the  morals  of  the  North  and  South  is  great, 
and  great  in  proportion  as  slavery  in  the  latter  partakes  of  its  more 

TOL.  1. —  25 


290  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

unmitigated  features.  Making  every  allowance  for  the  difTercnce  of 
climate,  that  cannot  of  itself  explain  the  phenomenon.  It  is  only 
under  a  system,  which  promotes  a  laxity  of  habits,  blunts  the  moral 
perceptions,  engenders  leisure,  and  fosters  pride,  that  could  arise 
those  quick  resentments,  that  morbid  sensitiveness,  that  false  sense 

/of  honour,  that  proneness  to  quarrel,  and  that  indilTerence  to  human 
life,  which  so  broadly  distinguish  genuine  society  in  the  South  from 
the  Anglo-Saxon  type  which  it  has  preserved  in  the  North.  There 
is  something  unfavourable  to  the  development  of  the  better  feelings 
of  our  nature,  when  the  mind  becomes  reconciled  to  a  monstrous 
violation  of  the  laws  of  nature.  A  Southerner's  reconciliation  to 
the  injustice  of  slavery  dates  from  his  very  infancy.  It  is  thus  that, 
in  the  moral  race,  he  does  not  get  a  fair  start  with  those  whose  per- 
ceptions are  not' thus  early  beclouded.  It  is  singular  to  witness  the 
indifference  with  which  all  parties  in  the  South  come  to  regard 
slavery,  with  all  its  accompaniments.  I  once  heard  a  lady  thus 
accost  a  negro  boy,  in  one  of  the  back  streets  of  Washington:  "I 
want  a  boy,  but  the  Doctor  asks  too  much  for  you."  In  other 
words,  she  had  been  engaged  in  a  negotiation  with  his  then  owner, 
for  the  purchase  of  this  very  boy,  and  spoke  of  the  matter  with  as 
much  sang  froid  as  an  English  woman  would  of  the  purchase  of  a 
cabbage  at  Covent  Garden. 

But  if  slavery  be  thus  socially,  morally,  and,  as  will  be  presently 
seen,  economically,  a  disadvantage,  why,  it  will  be  asked,  do  not 
the  people  of  the  South  get  rid  of  it?  Having  already  adverted,  in 
general  terms,  to  the  difficulties  which  stand  in  the  way,  let  me  here 
briefly  allude  more  particularly  to  the  nature  of  some  of  them. 

I  must  here  again  remind  the  reader  that,  in  the  North,  where 
slavery  has  been  abolished,  it  never  attained  the  colossal  magnitude 
into  which  it  has  expanded  in  the  South.  When,  therefore,  it  was 
found  in  the  former  to  be  more  prejudicial  than  advantageous  even 
to  material  progress,  it  was  easily  discarded.  The  same  conviction 
as  to  its  worse  than  inutility  has  long  since  dawned  upon  the  South, 
but  its  extirpation  there  would  now  almost  seem  to  be  impossible. 
Even  were  it  otherwise  practicable,  the  magnitude  of  the  interests 
to  be  affected  by  it  would  be  an  almost  insuperable  barrier  in  its 
way;  but  the  chief  obstacle  must  be  elsewhere  sought  for.  The 
reader  may  be  surprised,  but  that  obstacle  is  to  be  found  in  the  an- 

"'  tipatliy  of  race. 

It  is  scarcely  possible  for  a  European  who  has  not  witnessed  it, 
to  appreciate  the  intensity  of  this  feeling  on  the  part  of  the  white 
race  in  America.  They  will  amalgamate  with  the  Indians,  and  are 
frequently  proud  of  the  aboriginal  blood  in  their  veins;  but  merely 
as  partners  in  licentiousness  will  they  liave  any  converse  with  the 
neofroes.  Under  no  circumstances  can  tlic  negro  attain  in  America 
an  equal  social  position  with  the  dominant  race.     It  matters  not 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  291 

what  proportion  of  white  blood  he  may  have  in  his  veins,  if  he  bears 
about  liim  any  signs — and  tliey  are  ineradicable  for  generations — 
of  an  African  origin,  he  is  kept  aloof  as  if  his  touch  were  leprosy. 
Bond  or  free,  his  fate  is  the  same.  Indeed,  so  far  from  his  manu- 
mission bettering  his  condition,  in  this  respect  it  only  renders  it 
worse.  So  long  as  he  is  a  slave,  the  master  may,  when  he  pleases, 
treat  him  as  an  equal,  because  he  can  at  any  moment  place  him 
again  at  an  infinite  distance.  But  when  the  two  are  put  in  a  condi- 
tion of  political  equality,  the  white  is  chary  of  admitting  him  to  a  social 
position  of  which  it  might  not  be  so  easy  to  divest  him.  Thus  the 
privileges  of  the  free  black  are  more  nominal  than  real,  \vhilst  their 
very  possession  places  the  dominant  race  in  more  hopeless  antago- 
nism with  him  than  before.  It  is  all  very  well  for  us  in  Europe  to 
philosophize  upon  the  nature  of  man,  and  to  urge  that  man  is  man, 
whatever  be  the  colour  of  his  skin  or  the  cast  of  his  features.  There 
are  feelings  which  can  neither  be  reasoned  with  nor  overcome,  and 
the  antipathy  in  question  is  one  of  them.  It  has  always  existed, 
and  is  likely  ever  to  exist  in  the  breast  of  the  w4iite  man,  and  is  most 
active  where  the  two  races  come  most  in  contact.  This  forbids  their 
ever  mingling  together  and  fusing  into  one  mixed  race;  and  it  is 
because  they  must  thus  remain  two  separate  races  that  emancipation 
is  to  the  South  surrounded  with  so  many  perils. 

It  may  be  asked.  Why  did  not  all  this  operate  to  the  prevention 
of  emancipation  in  the  North?  Simply  because,  although  there  was 
the  same  objection  in  kind,  there  was  not  the  same  in  degree.  In 
New  York,  for  instance,  the  slave  population  was  never  numerous, 
and  the  free  blacks  scarcely  now  amount  to  two  per  cent,  of  the 
whole  population.  This  great  predominance  of  the  white  race  re- 
moved all  the  fears,  which  might  otherwise  have  existed,  as  to  the 
evil  consequences  of  emancipation.  It  did  not  permit  the  blacks  to 
approach  any  nearer  the  whites,  but  it  obviously  made  them  power- 
less for  mischief.  The  precepts  of  religion,  the  dictates  of  morality, 
and  the  interests  of  the  State,  then,  all  concurring  to  urge  upon  it  a 
policy  which  could  be  adopted  without  hazard,  the  abolition  of 
slavery  was  as  necessary  as  it  was  easy  of  attainment.  Very  dif- 
ferent, however,  is  the  case  with  the  South,  in  some  of  the  States  of 
M-hich  the  negroes  form  sixty  per  cent,  of  the  entire  population. 
Under  these  circumstances,  is  it  likely  that  the  existence  of  two  free, 
but  isolated  and  alien  races  on  the  same  territory  would  be  compatible 
with  the  security  of  either?  So  long  as  they  co-exist  in  peace  in 
their  present  numbers  on  the  continent,  must  they  co-exist  in  their 
present  relations.  They  cannot  exist  together  the  equals  of  each 
other.  One  or  the  other  must  dominate.  This  being  so,  can  it  be 
expected  that  the  now  dominant  race  will  consent  even  to  run  the 
risk  of  exchanging  places  with  the  subject  one  ?  That  they  would 
incur  this  risk  by  emancipation  is  obvious.     The  blacks  once  free, 


/ 


292  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

M'oiikl  they  depart?  AVhy  should  they?  How  could  they? 
AVhither  would  they  go?  IIow  long  would  two  free  races  thus 
situated,  refusing  to  commingle  in  any  of  the  relations  of  social  life, 
remain  in  harmony  on  the  same  soil?  Not  long,  even  if  the  blacks 
had  no  past  wrongs  to  avenge. 

The  great  question  then  for  the  South  is,  What  is  to  be  done  with 
the  blacks  in  the  event  of  manumission?  It  is  because  it  cannot 
solve  this  question  that  it  cannot  decide  upon  emancipation.  And 
what  does  it  gain  by  delay?  Only  the  postponement  of  the  catas- 
trophe, which  must  inevitably  occur.  Whether  the  negroes  are  set 
at  liberty,  or  remain  enchained,  the  war  of  races  is  an  event  in  the 
certain  future.  The  result  will  not  be  long  doubtful.  Witli  their 
superior  skill,  their  discipline,  their  knowledge,  and  their  wealth, 
the  European  race  in  the  Southern  States  alone  will  prove  an  over- 
match for  the  African.  But  Mith  the  aid  of  the  M^hole  North,  on 
which  they  reckon  with  confidence  in  such  an  event,  the  contest  is 
not  likely,  come  when  it  may,  to  be  of  long  continuance.  And  tliat 
aid  will  be  given,  even  should  the  ties  of  the  Union  have  been  pre- 
viously sundered;  for  in  nothing  are  the  American  people  more  de- 
termined than  this,  that  no  black  community  shall,  for  and  by  them- 
selves, occupy  any  portion  of  the  North  American  continent. 

This  inevitable  contest  will  be  postponed  until  it  is  precipitated  by 
the  blacks  themselves.  Until  it  is  so,  they  will  be  kept  in  bondage, 
and  the  more  numerous  and  powerful  they  become,  the  more  tightly 
will  their  chains  be  drawn  around  them.  There  can  be  little  doubt 
but  that  their  ultimate  fate  will  be  that  of  expulsion  from  the  conti- 
nent. But  what  untold  miseries  on  all  sides  will  be  the  prelude  to 
such  a  consummation! 

This  is  the  true  position  of  the  South.  Let  an  Enghshman  fancy 
himself  in  a  similar  one,  not  self-placed,  but  born  in  it,  and  inextri- 
cably entangled  in  its  meshes,  if  he  would  judge  impartially  in  the 
case.  Let  him  do  this,  and  learn  to  temper  the  severity  of  his  judg- 
ment with  sympathy  for  those  who,  by  the  faults  of  their  ancestors, 
have  been  placed  in  so  painful,  so  perplexing,  so  frightful  a  position. 

I  have  taken  it  for  granted,  in  what  has  preceded,  that  slavery  is 
disadvantageous,  even  in  an  economical  point  of  view.  At  this  time 
of  day  it  is  scarcely  necessary  to  enter  into  an  elaborate  argument  in 
proof  of  this.  It  may  be  as  well,  however,  here  just  to  allude  to  the 
principal  points  which  bear  upon  this  part  of  the  question  in  America. 

It  was  not  until  slavery  had  been  for  some  time  established  in  the 
South  that  it  extended  itself  to  the  North  at  all,  and  its  extension  in 
that  direction  was  more  the  result  of  example  than  of  any  necessity 
which  was  felt  for  it.  Whilst  it  was  yet  confined  to  the  South,  the 
northern  colonies  had  evinced  an  aptitude  lor  improvement,  which 
those  of  the  South  could  not  exhibit.  Yet  the  European  race  in  the 
South  was  sprung  as  recently  and  directly  from  the  common  Anglo- 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  293 

Saxon  stock  as  was  that  in  the  North.  To  tlie  dependence  upon  the 
forced  labour  of  others,  to  which  their  climate,  particularly  in  the 
more  southern  districts,  to  some  extent  invited  them,  is  chietiy  to  be 
attributed  the  striking  difference  which  manifested  itself  in  the  de- 
velopment of  the  northern  and  southern  colonies.  Before  they  had 
actual  proof  of  the  inutility  and  positive  disadvantage  of  slavery,  the 
northern  colonists  had  experienced  the  benefits  of  self-reliance  and 
personal  activity.  In  naturalizing  slavery  amongst  them  they  brouglit 
the  two  systems  into  immediate  competition;  and  that  it  was  not  long 
before  the  result  of  the  experiment  was  decided  in  favour  of  free 
labour  is  evident  from  the  fact,  that  in  none  of  the  northern  colonies 
did  slavery  ever  attain  any  footing  beyond  that  of  an  exceptional  in- 
stitution. The  superiority  of  free  labour  once  demonstrated,  the  ex- 
tension of  slavery  was  necessarily  checked.  Unfortunately  for  the 
South,  it  witnessed  the  experiment  only  from  a  distance;  it  never 
actually  tested  for  itself  the  respective  merits  of  free  labour  and  ser- 
vitude. It  was  thus  that  the  latter,  having  no  competitor  in  the  field, 
expanded  with  a  rapidity  which,  by  degrees,  left  the  South  no  alter- 
native but  to  let  it  take  its  course. 

But  it  was  not  solely  by  keeping  slavery  within  a  narrow  compass 
that  the  North  recorded  its  verdict  in  favour  of  free  labour.      By  its 
entire  abolition  they  also  testified  to  the  world  their  conviction  as  to 
the  merits  of  slavery.     When  it  was  at  its  greatest  height  in  the 
North,  the  effect  of  slavery  upon  the  free  labour  system  which  pre- 
vailed was  scarcely  perceptible.     In  tracing,  therefore,  from  the  very 
first,  the  career  of  the  two  groups  of  colonies,  we  are  in  fact  sitting 
in  judgment  upon  the  conflicting  pretensions  of  the  two  systems  of 
labour.     And  if  material  progress  is  to  be  the  turning  point  of  our 
decision,  the  evidence  of  superiority  is  all  on  one  side.     The  colonies 
of  the  North,  although  the  last  founded,  were  constantly  in  advance 
of  those  in  the  South;  demonstrating  by  their  rapid  increase,  both 
in  population  and  wealth,  the  economical  superiority  of  their  pre- 
vailing system.     And  what  may  thus  be  said  of  them  as  colonies  is 
also  true  of  them  as  independent  States.     The  inertness  of  the  South 
affords  to  this  day  a  painful  contrast  to  the  cheerful  activity  of  the 
North.     The  one  merely  subsists;  the  other  both  subsists  and  ac- 
cumulates.    If  we  would  be  eye-witnesses  of  that  energy  and  enter- 
prise which  so  distinguish  the  American  character,  it  is  in  the  North 
chiefly  that  we  must  look  for  it. 

The  sources  of  wealth  are  pretty  equally  distributed  over  the  con- 
tinent. The  South  has  its  full  share  of  them  as  regards  soil,  and 
vegetable  and  mineral  products.  Why  does  it  not  turn  them  to  that 
profit  to  which  all  these  advantages  are  converted  in  the  North? 
The  idea  of  climate  has  only  a  partial  relevancy.  It  may  disincline, 
but  it  does  not  incapacitate  to  work.  The  northern  immigrant  into 
the  southern  States  proves  by  his  conduct  the  justness  of  this  dis- 


294  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

tinction.  He  works  for  himself,  and  what  is  there  to  prevent  the 
southerner  from  doing  the  same?  Simply,  the  difference  in  his 
character,  superinduced  by  a  difference  in  institutions.  The  north- 
erner, brought  up  in  a  rugged  school,  becomes  imbued  with  the  ideas 
and  ingrained  with  the  habits  of  self-dependence,  and  carries  with 
him  the  energies  of  his  character  whithersoever  his  adventurous 
disposition  may  lead  him.  The  southerner,  on  the  other  hand,  bred 
in  the  lap  of  ease  and  luxury,  becomes  impatient  of  enterprise,  and 
recoils  from  exertion.  Even  the  chief  mining  and  manufacturing 
operations  in  the  South  are  carried  on  by  northern  enterprise  and 
capital.  Tried,  then,  by  the  best  of  all  tests,  that  of  its  actual  results, 
what  room  is  there  for  attributing  any  economical  advantages  to 
slavery?  If  any  one  entertains  a  doubt  upon  the  subject,  let  him 
contrast  the  condition  of  New  York  and  Pennsylvania  with  that  of 
Maryland  and  Virginia;  that  of  Ohio  with  that  of  Kentucky;  that 
of  Indiana  or  Illinois  with  that  of  Tennessee.  Between  some  of 
these  there  are  only  imaginary  boundary  lines,  between  others  only 
the  channel  of  a  river  intervenes.  Their  striking  difference  of  con- 
dition can  only  be  traced  to  their  great  difference  in  institutions; 
and  some  of  them  are  admirably  situated  for  making  the  comparison. 
There  is  very  little  difference  as  to  climate,  soil,  or  productions  be- 
tween Ohio  and  Western  Virginia,  which  abuts  upon  it;  or  between 
Oliio,  Indiana  and  Illinois,  and  the  State  of  Kentucky,  which  bounds 
them  to  the  south,  the  Ohio  river  alone  dividing  them.  So  forcible 
indeed  is  the  inference  to  be  deduced  from  all  this,  that  it  has  long 
since  pressed  itself  upon  the  convictions  of  the  South.  But  the 
curse  which  rests  upon  this  section  of  the  Union  is,  that  what  its 
interest,  in  one  sense,  urges  it  to  dispense  with,  its  interest,  in  an- 
other, seemingly  necessitates  it  to  retain. 

In  saying  that  the  climate  of  the  South  does  not  incapacitate  the 
European  from  working,  exception  must  be  taken  as  regards  the  low 
and  swampy  colist  districts  of  the  Carolinas,  Georgia,  Alabama  and 
Louisiana,  in  which,  as  already  observed,  no  white  person,  during 
certain  portions  of  the  year,  can  safely  remain.  There  can  be  no 
doubt  that  free  labour,  if  it  could  be  steadily  applied  even  to  these 
districts,  would  render  them  more  profitable  than  they  now  are. 
But  how  to  do  this  is  the  difllculty.  The  white  man  cannot  labour 
there.  But  if  the  black  man  can  as  a  slave,  why  not  also  as  a  free- 
man? Simply  because  few  free  blacks,  having  their  choice  of  lo- 
cality, would  remain  tliere.  Though  not  so  fatal  to  tlie  African  as 
to  the  European,  there  is  no  doubt  but  tlrat  these  pestilential  regions 
are  frau<rht  with  dano-cr  and  death  to  both.  Withdraw  coercion  from 
those  by  whose  labour  they  are  cultivated,  and  tliey  would  become 
depopulated.  This  shows  tlie  stake  which  the  possessors  of  land 
in  these  districts  have  in  the  continuance  of  slavery.  To  them  it 
is  a  question  of  property  or  no  property,  and  their  influence  is,  of 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  295 

course,  regardless  of  ultimate  consequences,  steadily  exerted  for  the 
perpetuation  of  servitude.  Tliis  has  a  greater  eflect  upon  the  whole 
question  of  abolition  than  at  first  appears.  The  slave  States  being 
all  more  or  less  dependent  upon  the  same  staple  productions,  slavery 
could  not  well  be  abolished  in  some  without  being  abolished  in  all. 
For  some  time  at  least,  such  cotton-growing  States  as  resorted  to 
free  labour  could  not  compete  with  those  which  still  adhered  to  the 
system  of  slavery.  Its  abolition,  therefore,  in  some  of  the  slave 
States,  would,  as  its  immediate  consequence,  only  stimulate  its  ex- 
tension in  others.  Even  were  there  no  other  obstacles  in  the  way, 
this  would  of  itself  be  almost  an  insuperable  one,  owing  to  the  diffi- 
culty which  would  be  experienced  in  getting  the  whole  of  the  slave 
States  to  move  together  in  the  direction  of  abolition. 

Independently  of  all  comparison  between  the  free  and  the  slave 
States,  some  of  the  latter  have  abundant  proof,  in  the  working  of  the 
system  itself,  of  the  utter  inutility  of  slavery.  To  no  State  is  this 
now  more  apparent  than  to  Virginia,  wiiich  enjoys  the  unenviable 
notoriety  of  being  the  chief  slave-breeding  State.  In  general,  slaves 
are  now  valued  in  Virginia  at  what  they  are  likely  to  bring  in  the 
market,  and  this  their  market  value  is  the  chief  object  for  which 
they  are  "raised."  When  all  the  States  in  the  Union  shall  have 
prohibited  the  further  importation  of  slaves  into  their  territories  from 
any  of  the  adjoining  States,  the  slaves  in  Virginia  will  be  a  positive 
burden  upon  the  State,  and  regarded  in  the  light  of  so  much  unsale- 
able stock.  The  extension  of  slavery  to  the  ncM'ly  acquired  terri- 
tory of  Texas  has  enlarged  the  demand  for  slaves  and  protracted 
their  export  from  this  and  other  States.  Should  the  regions  ceded 
by  Mexico  share  the  fate  of  Texas  in  this  respect,  the  time  will  be 
still  further  postponed  ere  slavery  becomes  an  intolerable  burden  to 
Virginia.  But  that  time  will  come,  when  those  in  whom  she  now 
traffics  will  accumulate  upon  her  hands  and  eat  up  her  substance. 

It  may  be  asked  why,  if  slavery  be  regarded  by  all  parties  as 
fraught  with  such  danger  to  the  Republic,  the  South  is  so  anxious 
to  extend  it?  It  is  so,  because  it  desires  to  retain  its  political  influ- 
ence in  the  Union.  Should  the  North  secure  a  decided  ascendency, 
the  South  might  be  ere  long  involved  in  ruin  and  confusion,  by  a 
forcible  attack  upon  her  institutions.  It  is  to  prevent  the  possibility 
of  this,  that  she  is  constantly  striving  to  extend  her  political  influ- 
ence by  extending  the  area  of  slavery.  True  to  the  failings  of  our 
common  humanity,  she  is  in  this  avoiding  an  immediate  dano-er  at 
the  risk  of  adding  to  her  ultimate  difficulties. 

But,  in  addition  to  those  of  the  slave  States,  there  are  other  in- 
terests, which  are  deeply  concerned  in  the  merits  of  slavery  in  an 
economical  point  of  view.  But  little  of  the  great  staple  product  of 
the  South  is  converted  at  home  into  fabrics  of  any  kind.  The  raw 
cotton,  which  is  the  chief  product  of  slave  labour,  finds  its  way  into 


296  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

the  markets  of  the  world,  Old  and  New  England  taking  together 
about  seven-tenths  of  the  whole.  It  may  be  urged  that  as  the  manu- 
facturing interest,  both  here,  on  the  continent,  and  in  America,  are 
deeply  interested  in  low-priced  cotton,  the  abolition  of  slavery,  by 
/  raising  the  price  of  the  raw  material,  would  be  greatly  injurious  to 
"  them.  This  objection  would  have  some  weight,  but  for  the  conside- 
ration that  it  would  equally  affect  the  manufacturers  every  where. 
If  the  price  of  the  raw  material  rose,  the  remedy  would  be  in  their 
own  hands,  which  they  would  apply  in  the  shape  of  an  enhanced 
price  for  their  goods.  All  being  equally  affected,  none  could  under- 
sell the  other  more  than  at  present,  and  the  manufacturers  of  Europe 
and  America  would  meet  in  neutral  markets  upon  the  same  terms 
as  now.  The  consumers  would  be  the  chief  sufferers,  and  it  would 
be  from  diminished  consumption  that  the  manufacturers  every  where 
would  feel  the  effect  of  the  change.  But  this,  were  it  to  happen, 
would  not  last  long,  as  the  production  of  cotton  would  be  stimulated 
elsewhere,  to  an  extent  which  would  soon  reduce  prices  to  their  for- 
mer level.  All  this,  however,  is  based  upon  the  assumption  that 
the  application  of  free  labour  to  the  growth  of  cotton  in  America 
would  materially  enhance  its  price.  My  conviction  is  that  this 
would  not  be  so.  It  is  certainly  reasonable  to  suppose  that  that 
which  is  the  product  of  labour  which  is  paid  for,  would  be  dearer 
than  that  produced  by  labour  which  is  not  paid  for.  But  the  mis- 
take in  this  case  is  in  taking  it  for  granted  that  slave  labour  is  not 
paid  for.  Let  us  compare  the  present  process  of  producing  cotton 
with  that  under  a  system  of  free  labour.  To  meet  a  given  demand, 
the  South  raises  a  given  quantity  of  cotton.  To  do  this  she  keeps 
a  certain  number  of  labourers,  each  of  whom,  on  an  average,  does 
but  half  a  man's  work.  They  are  cheaply  fed,  and  cheaply  clothed, 
it  is  true;  but  then  they  are  fed,  and  clothed,  and  housed  during  life, 
at  their  owner's  expense;  including  the  time  when  they  are  in- 
capable from  infancy  to  work,  and  disabled  from  so  doing  by  old 
age.  The  consideration,  then,  for  the  labour  of  the  slave  is  his 
"keep;"  both  in  infancy  and  age,  when  he  cannot  work,  and  during 
his  maturity,  when  he  only  gives  per  day  half  a  day's  work  to  his 
owner.  Then  again,  it  is  not  always  during  maturity  that  he  can 
be  kept  at  work,  inasmuch  as  there  is  not  always  work  tor  him  to 
do.  But  he  is  still  on  his  master's  hands  a  never-ceasing  expense. 
Now  what  is  the  case  with  free  labour?  It  is  sought  for,  and  paid 
for,  only  when  required.  It  is  the  employer's  own  fault  if  he  will 
pay  a  man  for  his  work,  who  does  not  give  him  in  return  a  full 
day's  work  for  his  money.  Thus  the  hired  labourer,  in  considera- 
tion of  his  reward,  gives  the  work  of  two  slaves  in  a  given  time;  so 
that  in  estimating  the  cost  of  the  two  kinds  of  labour,  we  must  place 
against  his  wages  the  keep  of  two  slaves  from  their  birth  to  their 
death,  and  at  all  seasons  of  the  year.     By  which  of  the  two  systems 


THE  westp:rn  world.  297 

is  it  likely  that  the  whole  cotton  required  could  he  the  more  cheaply 
raised  ?  It  might  require  more  ready  capital  on  the  part  of  the  South 
to  raise  it  by  means  of  free  labour,  but  it  would  be  found  by  far  the 
cheaper  process  in  the  end.  One  hired  labourer,  receiving  his  daily 
wages  only  Mhilst  at  work,  would  take  the  place  of  every  two  slaves, 
who  are  now  kept  the  whole  year  round,  during  the  whole  course 
of  their  lives.  The  fears,  then,  connected  with  a  permanent  rise  in 
the  price  of  raw  cotton  would  seem  to  be  groundless. 

In  the  face  of  all  this,  the  continuance  of  slavery  can  only  be 
accounted  for  on  the  grounds  already  adverted  to.  And  in  dis- 
missing the  whole  subject  let  me  remind  the  reader  that  the  pe- 
culiar position  of  the  Southern  States  is  this,  that  they  are  af- 
flicted with  an  evil  which  they  fear  to  attempt  the  removal  of  ; 
an  evil  already  grov»'n  beyond  their  control,  and  increasing  in  mag- 
nitude every  hour;  an  evil  of  which  nothins  but  a  social  convuU 
sion  can  rid  them  ;  which  when  it  comes,  as  it  assuredly  will, 
may  give  rise  to  a  political  disposition  of  the  continent  as  yet 
-undreamt  of. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

FROM  RICHMOND  TO  CHARLESTON. 

Railway  Bridge  over  the  James. — Appearance  of  Richmond  from  it. — A 
Mormon  Preacher. — An  Incident. — Petersburg. — Weldon. — The  Frontier. 
— The  sad  fate  of  an  old  Widow  Lady. —  Storm  on  the  Rail. —  Its  Conse- 
quences.— Singular  formations  in  clay,  observable  along  the  Embank- 
ments and  Excavations. — A  Youthful  Couple. — An  unexpected  Impedi- 
ment.— Aspect  of  the  country  from  Weldon  to  Raleigh. — Position  of  North 
Carolina  in  the  Confederacy. — The  Gold  Region. — Raleigh. — Aspect  of  the 
country  from  Raleigh  to  Wilmington. — The  Sea-coast  Region. — The  "Dis- 
mal Swamp," — Wilmington. — Dangerous  Coast  of  North  Carolina. — 
Cape  Hatteras. — Shipwrecks. — Romantic  Incident — Journey  by  steamer 
from  Wilmington  to  Charleston. — Coast  of  South  Carolina. — Entrance  into 
the  Harbour  of  Charleston. — Fancied  Resemblance  between  Charleston 
and  New  York. 

The  long  chain  of  railway  commencing  at  Boston,  and  continu- 
ing, almost  without  interruption,  southward  to  Richmond,  crosses 
the  James  river  at  the  latter  city  on  its  way  to  Carolina  and  Geor- 
gia. The  portion  of  the  railway  which  runs  through  Virginia,  in- 
tersects the  State  bv  a  line  running  almost  due  north  and  south, 


298  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

beirinning  at  the  Aquia  creek,  on  the  Potomac,  and  terminating 
at  AVcldoii,  on  the  border  of  North  Carolina.  This  Hnk  of  the 
great  chain  is  about  100  miles  in  length,  the  city  of  Richmond  ly- 
iii'r  about  midway  between  its  extremities.  From  Weldon  it  pur- 
sues its  way  across  the  Slate  of  North  Carolina  to  Wilmington, 
M-here  it  abuts  upon  the  Atlantic,  the  journey  from  Wilmington  to 
Charleston  being  performed  by  steamboat. 

I  left  Richmond  by  the  early  train  for  Weldon.  The  railway 
is  carried  over  the  rapids  of  the  James  by  means  of  a  stupendous 
wooden  bridge,  erected  at  a  great  height  above  the  water  upon 
a  number  of  lofty  stone  piers,  the  bases  of  which  are  washed  by 
the  foaming  rapids.  There  is  no  balustrade  or  railing  on  either 
side  ;  and  it  is  not  without  some  little  apprehension  that  the  tra- 
veller, as  he  crosses  it,  looks  down  upon  the  water  lashed  far  be- 
neath him  into  foam,  and  into  which  the  least  freak  of  the  engine 
mio'ht  in  a  moment  precipitate  the  whole  train. 

The  appearance  of  Richmond  from  the  bridge  is  very  imposing. 
Occupying  the  precipitous  bank  from  which  you  are  receding,  al- 
most every  house  of  which  the  town  is  composed  is  visible  from 
this  point  of  sight ;  its  upper  portion  looking  particularly  attrac- 
tive, from  the  quantity  of  foliage  intermingling  with  the  dazzling 
white  walls  of  its  isolated  mansions  and  villas.  Behind,  a  dark 
belt  of  forest  sweeps  round  the  horizon ;  whilst  in  the  foreground 
the  merry  river  glances  from  rock  to  rock,  and  straggles  amongst 
islets  clothed  in  the  richest  verdure.  Brief  time,  however,  has 
the  tourist  for  this  charming  sight,  the  diflerent  features  of  which 
he  has  scarcely  recognised  ere  he  is  whisked  amidst  dense  woods 
and  clayey  excavations,  which  in  a  twinkling  shut  the  whole  from 

his  view. 

The  car  in  which  I  sat  was  but  partially  filled,  and  it  was  soon 
whispered  about  me,  that  amongst  those  who  occupied  it  was  a 
Mormon  preacher,  although  he  could  not  be  precisely  identified. 

"  He'll  be  game,  if  we  can  only  git  him  out,"  said  a  passenger 
behind  me  to  his  companion. 

"  If  there's  such  a  fish  on  board,  I'll  hook  him,"  added  the  other  ; 
who  thereupon  commenced  in  a  voice  audible  throughout  the 
whole  car,  denouncing  as  a  swindler  and  vagabond  Joe  Smith,  the 
Mormon  prophet.  I  watched  for  some  time  to  see  on  whom  this 
produced  the  expected  eflx3ct,  and  had  just  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  no  such  party  was  on  board,  when  I  was  startled  by  a  deep 
groan,  proceeding  from  a  rather  stalwart-looking  man,  who  sat 
directly  on  my  left,  and  whose  face  was  now  covered  by  his  hands. 
I  rose  almost  involuntarily  and  took  the  seat  opposite,  which 
luckily  was  vacant.  All  eyes  were  now  turned  upon  him  who  had 
given  such  unequivocal  evidence  of  a  troubled  spirit,  and  who  sat 
swinging  himself  to  and  fro,  his  face  still  buried  in  his  hands, 
groaning  as  if  from  the  innermost  recesses  of  his  soul. 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  299 

**  I  reckon  you're  out  of  sorts,"  said  he  whose  words  had  con- 
jured up  this  extraordinary  manifestation.  "  You'll  be  better,  p'ra'ps, 
of  a  drain,"  he  continued,  bending  over  him,  and  offering  him  a 
small  flask. 

"Avaunt,  Satan!"  he  exclaimed,  and  then  burst  into  an  im- 
passioned prayer,  in  which  he  called  down  every  conceivable  spe- 
cies of  denunciation  upon  those  who  were  wilfully  blind,  and  ig- 
nored the  accredited  prophets  of  God.  Luckily  there  were  no 
ladies  present,  or  there  might  have  been  a  scene.  As  it  was,  there 
was  considerable  confusion,  the  whole  affair  giving  great  scandal 
to  those  who  regarded  it  as  bringing  things  solemn  into  contempt. 
But  there  was  a  general  cry  of  "  Hear  him  out  !  "  which  prevail- 
ing, gave  him  undisputed  possession  of  the  floor.  In  a  few  minutes 
he  rose  and  began  to  speak.  It  was  then  that,  for  the  first  time,  I 
got  a  full  sight  of  his  features.  In  vain  did  I  look  for  that  fire  in 
the  eye  which  betokens  fanaticism,  or  that  rapid  and  nervous 
change  of  expression  which  so  often  characterizes  the  enthusiastic 
zealot.  His  frame  was  large,  his  face  full,  his  whole  expression 
stolid,  his  eye  dull  and  changeless,  with  far  more  cunning  than  in- 
spiration in  it.  He  was  more  like  one  pursuing  a  speculation  than 
expounding  a  cherished  faith,  having  all  the  appearance  of  one  who 
was  engaged  in  a  swindle,  and  knew  it. 

His  name  was  Hyde,  and  it  appeared  from  his  own  showing  that 
he  was  deeply  in  the  confidence  of  the  great  Mormon  apostle 
Smith.  He  was  then  on  a  very  extensive  proselytizing  tour,  which 
commenced  w^ith  the  state  of  Illinois.  He  told  us  that  in  travellino- 
alone  over  the  "  broad  prairies  "  of  that  State  on  his  holy  mis- 
sion, he  lay  down  one  evening  in  the  grass,  his  stockings  wet  with 
blood,  and  his  whole  frame  utterly  exhausted.  Whilst  in  this 
state  the  heavens  opened,  and  he  saw — but  I  will  not  follow  him 
upon  forbidden  ground.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  what  Stephen  wit- 
nessed was  nothing  to  the  revelations  made  to  Mr.  Hyde.  His 
mission  was  then  confirmed,  and  he  was  commanded  to  go  forth 
and  convert  the  whole  earth.  He  had  since  been  encased  in  that 
trivial  task.  On  being  asked  how  he  had  succeeded  so  far,  he  said 
that  he  had  met  with  considerable  success  in  some  of  the  western 
parts  of  Canada,  but  that  the  love  of  this  world  was  far  too  strong 
in  the  present  generation  to  leave  them  accessible  to  the  truth.  A 
part  of  the  Mormon  doctrine  is  that  of  association  and  communi- 
ty of  goods,  each  convert  being  required  to  dispose  of  his  all,  and 
repair  to  the  New  Jerusalem  with  the  proceeds,  which  are  to  be 
disposed  of  without  any  of  those  reservations  which  called  down 
such  heavy  vengeance  on  ^Ananias  and  Sapphira.  This  was  the 
point  at  which  he  found  most  of  his  converts  falter,  their  enthusi- 
asm appearing  daily  to  increase  until  the  proposal  was  made  to 
them  to  sell  their  property  for   the   benefit  of  the  common  fund, 


o 


00  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 


M'hen  they  suddenly  became  as  refractory  as  the  young  man  with 
great  possessions  mentioned  in  Scripture.  He  then  jjroceeded  to 
denounce  the  living  generation  as  one  hopelessly  rooted  in  unbe- 
lief, and  prophesied  the  end  of  the  world  in  ten  months.  The 
events  wliich  were  to  happen  in  the  intermediate  time  were  all 
contained  in  a  prophetic  handbill,  of  which  he  had  some  hundreds 
in  his  possession,  and  which  he  informed  us  were  for  sale  at  two 
cents  a-piece.  This  was,  after  all,  the  moral  of  his  preaching  ;  I 
followed  the  example  of  others,  and  bought  one,  on  perusing  which 
I  found  that  the  least  evil  that  was  to  happen  to  poor  humanity  be- 
tween that  and  the  ensuing  May  was,  that  a  very  great  proportioa 
of  those  alive  were  to  fare  as  did  Herod  thetetrarch,  and  be  eaten 
up  by  worms.  The  managers  of  the  society  at  Nauvoo,*  the  New 
Jerusalem,  were  about  to  start  a  newspaper,  for  which  he  was  au- 
thorized to  procure  subscriptions,  on  terms  of  paying  for  one  year 

in  advance. 

«'  Why  on  airlh  take  subscriptions  for  a  year  if  this  here  uni* 
varsal  world  is  to  come  up  all  of  a  heap  in  ten  months  1  "  asked  a 
Yankee,  in  the  furthest  corner  of  the  car. 

*'  P'r'aps  he'll  let  it  go  on  for  the  year,"  suggested  another  be- 
side him. 

"  If  he  don't,  you  can  get  part  of  your  money  back,  the  day  af- 
ter it's  all  up,"  said  another  ;  and  a  general  laugh  arose  at  the 
awkward  turn  which  the  matter  had  taken  for  the  prophet,  who 
now  stood  scowling  and  discomfited,  without  well  knowing  what  to 
say.  To  what  length  the  scene  would  have  gone  it  is  difficult  to 
say,  had  it  not  been  here  put  an  end  to  by  our  arrival  at  Peters- 
burg, after  a  little  more  than  an  hour's  ride  from  Richmond. 

The  town  of  Petersburg,  though  far  inland,  is  nevertheless  a  sea- 
port, being  situated  upon  the  Appomattox,  about  twelve  miles  above 
City  Point,  where  it  falls  into  the  James.  At  the  junction  of  the 
two  streams  is  in  reality  the  harbour  common  to  Richmond  and 
Petersburg,  few  sea-going  craft  ascending  either  river  above  City 
Point.  The  rapids  of  the  Appomattox  afford  Petersburg  a  water- 
power,  of  which  it  has  to  some  extent  availed  itself  by  turning  it  to 
the  purposes  of  manufacture.  Our  stay  here  was  but  short,  and  we 
pursued  our  way  afterwards  with  but  little  interruption,  until  our 
arrival  at  Weldon.  The  aspect  of  that  portion  of  Virginia  traversed 
by  the  line  between  Richmond  and  Weldon  is  very  similar  to  that 
of  the  district  through  which  it  runs  between  the  capital  and  the  Po- 
tomac. It  follows,  for  most  part,  south  of  the  James,  the  verge  of 
the  higher  level  between  the  tide-w^ater  region  and  the  mountains,  so 
that  the  traveller  is  brought  in  continual  contact  with  the  peculiari- 
ties of  both  regions— now  passing  over  the  undulating  surface  of  the 

♦  The  Mormons  have  since  been  driven  west  of  the  Rocky  Mountains. 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  301 

^liief  tobacco  district,  where  he  meets  every  here  and  there  with  a 
cotton  plantation,  and  then  penetrating  for  short  distances  into  the 
sea-coast  district,  covered  with  interminable  forests  of  pitch  pine. 
Near  the  border  of  North  Carolina  the  country  becomes  more  un- 
even,  picturesque,  and  salubrious. 

Our  approach  to  the  frontier  unsealed  the  lips  of  a  taciturn  Caro- 
linian who  was  seated  beside  me,  and  who  now  related  for  my  edi- 
lication  the  following  story,  which  he  thought  a  good  one.  Some 
time  ago,  on  the  line  separating  Virginia  from  North  Carolina  being 
re-surveyed,  it  was  so  altered  at  one  point  as  to  include  a  small  por- 
tion of  the  former  within  the  limits  of  the  latter  State.  It  so  hap- 
pened that,  at  the  point  where  the  deviation  took  place,  there  was  a 
marked  contrast,  as  the  line  originally  ran  between  districts  of  coun- 
try of  very  different  degrees  of  salubrity,  that  on  the  Virginia  side 
being  high,  undulating  and  salubrious,  whilst  that  on  the  Carolinian 
was  low,  swampy,  and  unwholesome.  An  old  lady,  a  relic  of  the 
revolutionary  times,  who  had  enjoyed  her  widowhood  for  many 
years  on  a  snug  little  property  on  the  Virginia  side  of  the  line,  in- 
habited a  commodious  house,  so  situated  on  a  sloping  declivity,  with 
a  southern  aspect,  as  to  command  an  extensive  view  of  the  dank 
and  sedgy  region  which  lay  immediately  beyond  the  border.  Her 
ideas  ranged  but  little  beyond  the  prospect  which  was  visible  from 
her  windows,  and  one  of  her  chief  incentives  to  gratitude  was,  that 
her  fate  had  cast  her  in  Virginia,  and  not  in  North  Carolina.  Great 
then  was  her  horror  on  discovering  one  day,  that  by  the  swerving 
of  the  boundary  line,  she  herself,  her  house,  and  the  whole  of  her 
property,  were  included  in  the  latter  State.  Her  complaints  were 
bitter  at  having  been  thus  transferred  to  the  unhealthy  country,  and 
she  made  up  her  mind  that,  for  the  rest  of  her  days,  there  was  no- 
thing in  store  for  her  but  fevers,  agues,  rheumatisms,  and  catarrhs. 
So  impressed  was  she  with  the  idea  that  the  change  had  exposed 
her  to  unwholesome  influences  from  which  she  had  formerly  been 
exempt,  that  she  made  up  her  mind,  although  with  great  reluctance, 
to  part  with  her  property,  and  retreat  into  Virginia,  in  the  sanitary 
virtues  of  which  she  had  every  confidence.  It  is  held  that  the  ap- 
prehension of  a  malady  sometimes  superinduces  it.  However  this 
may  be,  the  old  lady  in  question  soon  afterwards  fell  a  victim  to 
fever  and  ague,  convinced  to  the  last  that  she  had  been  sacrificed  to 
a  geographical  innovation,  and  that,  had  her  property  continued  as 
formerly  in  Virginia,  her  fate  would  have  been  very  different. 

We  stayed  but  a  few  minutes  at  Weldon,  a  small  border  town, 
on  the  Roanoke,  and  possessing  no  feature  of  interest  to  the  stran- 
ger. We  had  penetrated  but  a  short  distance  into  North  Carolina, 
ere  we  were  overtaken  by  one  of  the  terrific  thunder-storms  so 
common,  during  the  hotter  months,  to  these  latitudes.  The  descend- 
ing deluge  poured  with  such  violence,  that  in  a  few  minutes  the  line 
VOL.  1. — 26 


30*2  THE  WESTKUN  VV0U1.D. 

was  at  several  points  completely  under  water.  On  entering  a  deejr 
excavation,  which  extended  for  about  three  miles,  we  were  almost 
brought  to  a  halt  by  the  heavy  torrent  which  we  encountered.  The 
bed  of  the  railway  resembled  that  of  a  canal,  which  had  broken  its 
b-.mks  a  little  beyond,  and  the  water  of  which  was  rushing  to  escape 
and  pour  itself  with  desolating  efTect  upon  the  adjacent  fields.  The 
torrent  into  which  we  were  thus  suddenly  plunged  did  not  proceed  sole- 
ly from  the  surcharged  heavens,  for  a  small  stream,  which,  for  some 
distance,  ran  parallel  to  the  line  and  close  to  one  side  of  the  cutting, 
became  so  swollen  by  the  tempest  as  to  break  into  the  excavation^ 
into  which,  at  more  points  than  one,  it  poured  its  muddy  contents 
in  miniature  cataracts.  So  deeply  was  the  line  submerged  by  this 
double  visitation,  that  the  axles  of  the  wheels  were  covered,  as  the 
train  slowly  proceeded,  groping  its  way,  and  following,  at  a  safe 
distance,  enormous  pieces  of  loose  timber  which  were  floating  be- 
fore it  along  the  rails. 

The  violence  of  these  storms  serves  to  explain  what  every  Eng- 
lishman travelling  there  must  have  noticed  as  characteristic  of  most 
railways  in  America.  In  England,  excavations  and  embankments 
soon  lose  the  cadaverous  aspect  which  they  first  assume,  by  cover- 
ing themselves  with  vegetation,  in  the  shape  either  of  grass  or  shrub- 
bery, or  by  being  laid  out  into  tasteful  flower-pots,  as  in  the  vicinity 
of  many  of  our  stations.  In  America,  however,  they  retain,  for  the 
most  part,  their  original  unsighfliness,  the  frequency  and  violence 
of  the  summer  rains  preventing  them  from  being  again  covered  after 
they  are  once  exposed.  But  it  is  seldom  that  we  find  nature,  in  her 
workings,  deviating  from  the  principle  of  compensations.  If  the 
traveller  does  not,  as  with  us,  pass  rapidly  over  meadowy  banks,  or 
through  excavations  skirted  with  shrubs  and  evergreens,  he  is  not 
left  witliout  some  atonement  for  the  frequency  with  which  his  eye 
is  brought  in  contact  with  the  cold  repulsive  clay;  for,  on  the  em- 
bankment, or  in  the  cutting,  he  can  at  any  time  amuse  himself  by 
observing  the  varied  and  fantastic  forms  into  which  it  has  been 
carved  and  furrowed  by  the  descending  showers.  In  some  places 
the  water  cuts  deep  gasiies  in  it,  in  humble  imitation  of  the  yawn- 
ing seams  on  the  hill-sides,  which,  in  the  highlands,  mark  the  courses 
of  the  mountain  torrents.  When  tliis  happens  in  an  excavation,  a 
miniature  delta  of  soft  clay  is  not  unfrequently  deposited  upon  the 
rails;  at  other  points,  where  the  volume  of  water  acting  is  less  and 
its  course  more  gentle,  it  trickles  down  in  a  multitude  of  tiny  and 
devious  channels,  which,  by  degrees,  it  wears  deep,  leaving  the  pro- 
jecting masses  of  indurated  clay  to  form  themselves  into  an  endless 
variety  of  fantastic  resemblances.  Some  of  these  masses,  by  succes- 
sive washinjr,  become  almost  isolated  from  the  bank,  when,  as  seen 
from  a  little  distance,  they  look  like  sculptured  groups  of  the  most 
grotesque  images.     At  other  times  they  resolve  themselves  into  fac- 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  303 

similes  of  fortified  towns,  as  ihey  might  be  seen  throiitrh  tlie  little 
end  of  a  telescope,  with  their  steeples,  towers,  and  battlements.  I 
was  most  interested  in  observing,  when  they  stood  forth  in  boldest 
relief,  the  resemblance  which  they  bore  to  Gothic  architecture  in  in- 
cipient ruin.  There  were  the  deep  projections,  the  lofty  galleries, 
the  stately  pillar,  the  tenantless  niches,  the  pointed  window,  and  the 
flying  buttresses,  reminding  one  more  particularly  of  the  choir  of  a 
fine  old  cathedral  in  the  first  stages  of  its  dilapidation.  Frequently 
have  I  amused  myself,  not  only  on  the  railway,  but  also  on  the  rivet 
and  the  common  highway,  when  circumstances  admitted  of  it,  by 
observing  the  singular  formations  in  clay  thus  designed  and  executed 
by  the  summer  showers. 

Amongst  others  who  joined  the  train  at  Weldon,  were  a  young 
couple,  who  sat  nearly  opposite  me,  and  whom,  for  a  time,  I  re- 
garded as  brother  and  sister.  In  this  belief  I  w^as  first  shaken  by 
observing  a  variety  of  endearments  pass  between  them,  which  are 
not  usually  indicative  of  the  affection  subsisting  between  parties 
standing  towards  each  other  in  the  relationship  alluded  to.  I  guessed 
therefore,  and  was  afterwards  assured,  that  they  were  husband  and 
wife,  being  then  on  their  way  to  spend  all  that  remained  of  the  ho- 
neymoon with  some  friends  in  South  Carolina.  Their  united  ages 
could  not  have  exceeded  thirty-five.  I  had  often  heard  of  early  mar- 
riages in  America,  but  never  before  had  so  precocious  an  instance 
fallen  under  my  observation.  To  most  of  their  fellow-travellers 
they  were  objects  of  considerable  interest.  They  were  both  Virgi- 
nians: the  brideorroom  being  tall,  thin,  and  pale;  whilst  the  bride, 
on  the  other  hand,  was  rather  short  and  rotund,  with  a  round  face, 
a  full  eye,  and  a  laughing  expression,  but  as  girlish  in  her  appear- 
ance and  actions  as  her  lord  was  boyish  in  his  look  and  demeanour. 
They  had  early  saddled  tliemselves  with  the  most  serious  responsi- 
bilities of  life,  plunging  into  the  position  and  duties  of  middle  age 
before  they  yet  saw  the  end  of  their  youth;  and  it  was  not  without 
pain  that  I  thought  of  the  cares  that  would  wrinkle  the  brow,  and 
the  sallow^  lines  that  would  furrow  the  cheek  of  the  one  ere  he  was 
thirty,  and  the  premature  age  which,  descending  upon  the  other, 
would  blight  her  comeliness  ere  she  had  emerged  from  twenty-five. 
Such  is  the  rapidity  wdth  which  age,  in  many  cases,  stamps  its  im- 
press on  the  form,  particularly  of  the  married  woman,  in  most  of  the 
southern  States,  that  I  have  seen  two  sisters,  the  one  married  and 
the  other  single,  look  like  mother  and  daughter,  although  there  was 
not  two  years'  difference  between  their  aaes. 

We  had  scarcely  been  an  hour  and  a  half  from  Weldon,  when  the 
train  came  suddenly  to  a  halt  in  the  midst  of  a  thick,  tangled, 
swampy  w^d,  from  which  so  dense  a  vapour  arose  that  it  really 
seemed  as  if  the  spongy  ground,  in  which  the  trees,  as  it  were, 
soaked  their  roots,  were  heated  by  subterranean  fires.     I  involun- 


804  THE  WESTERN  WORLD, 

tarily  turned  my  eyes  upwards  to  ascertain  if  another  storm  fiati 
anything  to  do  with  this  additional  detention;  but  the  heavens,  now 
innocent  of  cloud,  were  again  swathed  in  the  most  lustrous  blue,  I 
soon  afterwards  discovered  that  the  cause  of  the  delay  was  a  more 
Tulgar  one  than  I  had  at  first  imagined,  for,  on  following  the  exam- 
ple of  others  and  jumping  out  upon  the  line,  I  beheld  a  horse  stand- 
ing between  the  rails,  about  fifty  yards  in  advance  of  the  engine,  and 
looking  curiously  at  it,  as  if  he  recognised  in  it  an  old  acquaintance, 
but  was  not  quite  sure.  With  one  shrill  tone  of  the  whistle  the  illu- 
sion vanished  from  his  mind,  and  turning  round  he  cantered  ofi',  still, 
however,  retaining  his  position  between  the  rails.  He  had  a  saddle 
on  his  back,  but  was  riderless — a  circumstance  which  gave  rise  to 
many  speculations  and  conjectures  amongst  the  passengers.  We 
followed  him  slowly,  and  on  once  more  making  nearly  up  with  him, 
he  again  turned  round,  stood,  and  looked  as  intently  as  before,  un- 
til the  whistle  sent  him  a  second  time  cantering  along  the  line,  from 
which  he  would  deviate  neither  to  the  right  nor  to  the  left,  provoking- 
ly  keeping  his  place  between  the  rails.  The  whistle  was  at  length 
kept  constantly  screeching,  much  to  our  discomfort,  but  to  no  use- 
ful purpose,  for  he  still  kept  in  advance  of  us,  causing  us,  in  follow- 
ing him,  materially  to  reduce  our  speed.  The  chase  had  already 
lasted  for  about  three  miles,  and  might  have  continued  tor  the  next 
dozen,  but  that  we  again  came  to  a  halt,  when  the  animal,  taking  a 
longer  look  than  usual  at  the  engine,  as  if  to  satisfy  himself  that  he 
liad  made  no  mistake,  was  taken  on  his  flank  by  the  stoker,  wlio 
suddenly  emerged  upon  him  from  the  wood  on  one  side  of  the  line, 
and  drove  him  into  it  on  the  other.  A  traveller  by  railway  in  Ame- 
rica gets  used  to  such  impediments,  although  it  is  not  often  that  it  is 
a  saddled  horse  that  is  the  obstacle  in  the  way. 

As  soon  as  we  had  resumed  our  speed,  every  one  began  to  specu- 
late upon  the  fate  of  the  missing  rider.  Little  time,  however,  had  we 
for  conjecture  on  this  score,  for,  on  turning  an  abrupt  curve,  the 
train  was  not  only  once  more  pulled  up,  but  actually  sent  back. 
In  a  twinkling,  two  or  three  heads  were  to  be  seen  projecting  from 
each  window  of  every  carriage,  first  looking  up  and  down  the  line, 
and  then  full  at  each  other,  for  an  explanation  of  the  cause  of  our 
retrograde  movement.  It  was  soon  made  plain  to  us;  for,  on  back- 
ing about  three  hundred  yards,  we  came  up  to  the  body  of  a  man 
lying  close  to  the  line  and  apparently  lifeless.  The  curve  in  the 
road^'had  prevented  the  engineer  from  seeing  him  in  time  to  stop 
the  train  until  it  had  shot  far  past  him,  and  he  very  properly  put  back 
to  ascertain  if  any  injury  had  befallen  him.  lie  was  bleeding  from 
one  of  his  feet;  but  on  examination  the  blood  was  found  to  flow 
from  a  wound  of  the  most  trivial  description.  lie  had  been  lying 
on  his  face,  with  the  foot  in  question  so  far  upon  the  rail,  that  tlie 
fore-wheel  of  the  engine  had  crushed  the  eilge  of  his''«hoe»  and  iu 


THE  "WESTERN  WORLD.  305 

SO  doing-  produceil  an  abrasnre  of  the  skin  of  the  little  toe.  Being 
in  a  beastly  state  of  intoxication,  he  was  in  no  condition  to  throw 
any  liglit  upon  whence  1  e  had  come,  whither  lie  was  goin;^,  or  how 
he  had  been  placed  in  so  perilous  a  position.  He  was  conveyed 
to  the  nearest  road-side  station,  where  he  was  left  to  be  thankful, 
on  recovering-  his  senses,  for  his  double  preservation.  Whilst  this 
was  going  on,  I  was  somewhat  amused  at  the  honest  indignation 
expressed  by  some  of  the  passengers  that  the  wretch  had  not  been 
more  seriously  injured,  which,  had  he  been  so,  they  seemed  to  think 
would  have  fully  compensated  them  for  their  loss  of  time. 

There  is  but  litde  to  interest  the  traveller  in  the  region  of  North 
Carolina,  .traversed  by  the  Railway  from  Weldon  to  Wilmington. 
The  portion  of  the  road  lying  between  the  former  place  and  Ra- 
leigh, the  capital  of  the  State,  runs  through  a  district  of  unequal 
fertility,  the  average  productiveness  of  which  falls  somewhat  below 
that  of  the  sea-coast  or  tide-water  region  to  the  east  of  it,  and  of  the 
rich  and  exuberant  valleys  to  the  west  which  are  embosomed 
amongst  the  ridges  of  the  Allegheny  chain,  the  loftiest  peaks  of 
which  are  to  be  found  within  the  limits  of  North  Carolina.  The 
middle  region  of  the  State  partakes  much  of  the  characteristics  of 
the  corresponding  tract  in  Virginia,  of  which  it  is  in  fact  a  prolong- 
ation. The  soil  is  light  and  sandy,  but  there  are  numerous  tracts 
on  which  cotton,  tobacco,  and  Indian  corn,  as  well  as  wheat  and 
barley  are  cultivated  to  advantage.  Here  and  there  the  surface  un- 
dulates considerably,  presenting  to  the  eye  a  succession  of  gende 
slopes  and  moderate  elevations.  As  might  be  expected,  these  tracts 
abound  in  pretty  situations,  many  of  which  are  occupied  by  com- 
modious mansions,  tenanted  by  the  possessors  of  the  circumjacent 
plantations.  Some  of  these  are  exquisitely  situated  in  the  midst 
of  dells  clothed  with  the  richest  vegetation,  and  on  the  margin  of 
lively  and  rapid  streams,  which  become  sluggish  enough  when  they 
descend  into  the  broad  and  gloomy  belt  of  the  tide-water  region. 
In  general,  however,  this  part  of  the  State  is  inhabited  by  an  infe- 
rior class  of  proprietors,  who  live  in  tenements  of  a  diflerent  de- 
scription, and  who  seemingly  permit  themselves  to  be  but  little 
disturbed  by  the  rage  for  material  improvement  which  has  so  com- 
pletely possessed  the  minds  and  influenced  the  conduct  of  their 
more  northern  fellow-countrymen. 

North  Carolina,  as  a  State,  occupies  no  very  prominent  position 
in  the  Union.  She  is  a  member  of  the  Confederacy  and  but  litde 
more;  playing,  socially  and  politically,  a  part  far  inferior  to  that 
of  her  more  active  and  ambitious  sister,  in  whose  wake  she  gene- 
rally follows,  though  with  uncertain  pace,  in  connexion  with  ques- 
tions particularly  of  a  commercial  bearing.  In  point  of  material 
development  she  is  immeasurably  behind  many  of  the  NorUiern 
States,  her  co-evals  in  the  Union,  and  possessing  material  advantages 

2o* 


306  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

not  superior  to  her  own.  But  if  she  has  been  exempt  from  tlicir 
ambition,  she  certainly  does  not  now  participate  in  the  misfortunes 
with  which  not  a  few  of  them  have  been  visited.  She  has  little  or 
no  public  debt,  her  exemption  from  which  may  argue  want  of  spirit 
as  well  as  prudence,  for  with  advantages  like  those  possessed  by 
North  Carolina,  her  credit  might  have  been  safely  and  usefully 
pledged  to  some  extent,  with  a  view  to  internal  improvements  on 
a  practicable  and  rational  scale.  The  insolvent  States,  or  those 
bordering  upon  insolvency,  have  erred,  not  in  the  spirit  which  they 
have  manifested,  but  in  the  extent  to  which  they  have  permitted  it 
to  carry  them.  A  moderate  infusion  of  their  spirit  into  her  would 
do  much  for  North  Carolina;  not  that  she  has  been  absolutely  su- 
pine, whilst  her  sister  States  have,  some  of  them,  been  taking 
strides  in  the  direction  of  prosperity,  and  others  hurrying  to  tem- 
porary wreck  under  its  guise;  for  she  has  executed  a  few  works, 
in  the  shape  of  canals  and  railways,  which  are  useful,  so  far  as  they 
go,  if  they  do  not  reflect  much  credit  upon  her  enterprise.  But, 
both  in  public  spirit  and  individual  energy,  the  North  Carolinians 
are  far  behind  their  active  and  ambitious  brethren  of  the  North  and 
West.  The  stranger  has  not  to  penetrate  far  into  the  State  ere  he 
discerns  sufficient  evidence  of  this. 

The  blight  of  slavery  is  here,  if  possible,  even  more  palpable 
than  it  is  in  Virginia.  View  it  whichever  way  you  will,  whether 
as  a  crime  or  as  a  calamity,  this  institution  in  the  United  States  in- 
variably carries  with  it  its  own  retribution.  However  indispensable  i 
it  may  be  to  the  wealth  and  productiveness  of  some  localities,  it  is 
a  present  curse  to  the  land,  fraught  with  a  terrible  prospective  judg- 
ment, when  we  consider  the  hopelessness  of  its  peaceful  removal, 
and  the  awful  catastrophes  to  which  it  will  inevitably  lead.  Wliere 
activity  and  progress  are  the  rule,  all  that  is  not  advancing  assum -s 
the  melancholy  aspect  of  retrogression.  North  Carolina  is  virtu- 
ally retrograding.  Since  1830  her  population  has  increased  but  at 
a  very  trifling  ratio,  which  is  pardy  to  be  accounted  for  by  the  num- 
bers who  annually  emigrate  from  her,  as  from  Virginia  and  other  sea- 
board States,  to  the  Far  West.  Her  foreign  trade,  which  was  never 
very  large,  has  also,  of  late  years,  been  rapidly  on  the  decline,  and 
there  is  now  but  little  prospect  of  its  ever  reviving.  She  still  holds 
some  rank  in  point  of  wealth  and  political  importance  in  the  Con- 
federation, but  every  year  is  detracting  from  it,  and  throwing  her 
more  and  more  into  the  background.  She  has  not  only  lagged  be- 
hind most  of  the  original  States  amongst  whom  she  figured,  but 
has  permitted  many  of  the  younger  members  of  the  Union  greatly 
to  outstrip  her.  The  latter  proposition,  however,  will  hold  good  as 
to  other  sea-board  States,  which  find  it  no  easy  matter  to  maintain  | 
dieir  original  position,  seeing  that  they  are  annually  drained  of  men 
and  money  seokiuir  new  fields  of  action,  and  opportunities  of  invosi- 
lTlcitt,:\inoug  the  more  enterprising  and  rising  conimunities  of  the  west, 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  307 

What  is  known  as  the  Gold  Region  in  the  United  States,*  ex- 
tending, M'ith  more  or  less  interruption  and  with  diminishing  rich- 
ness, as  far  north  as  the  St.  Lawrence,  manifests  itself  in  great  pro- 
ductiveness in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Rappahannock,  immediately 
south  of  the  Potomac.  After  traversing  the  State  of  Virginia,  it 
extends  in  a  south-westerly  direction  across  North  Carolina;  embra- 
cing, in  its  progress  further  south,  an  angle  of  South  Carolina,  w^hence 
it  passes  into  Georgia  and  the  upper  portions  of  Alabama.  Through- 
out the  whole  of  this  region  gold  is  found,  in  greater  or  less  quan- 
tity, mixed  in  the  form  of  small  particles  with  alluvial  deposits,  or 
of  petty  lumps  imbedded  in  quartz  and  slate,  from  which  when  it  is 
washed  or  separated,  it  is  generally  found  to  be  of  the  purest  qua- 
lity. The  tract  thus  denoted  extends  in  a  north-easterly  and  south- 
westerly direction  for  nearly  700  miles,  its  breadth  varying  much, 
but  sometimes  spreading  over  an  area  of  from  seventy  to  a  hundred 
miles.  It  runs  parallel,  for  the  most  part,  with  the  Allegheny  chain 
at  the  very  foot  of  which  it  is  sometimes  found  to  lie;  whilst  at 
others  it  embraces  the  spurs  of  the  chain  within  its  limits.  The 
auriferous  veins  which  permeate  it  differ  much  in  their  richness,  as 
they  do  in  their  form  and  extent:  breaking,  in  some  places,  into  nu- 
merous branches,  to  unite  again,  at  no  great  distance,  into  one  broad 
and  deep  belt.  North  of  the  Potomac,  the  tract  is  much  more  abun- 
dant in  its  production  of  several  of  the  baser  metals  than  in  that  of 
gold,  the  greatest  quantities  of  the  latter  being  found  south  of  that 
river.  Some  of  the  most  beautiful  portions  of  Virginia  are  compre- 
hended within  it,  the  region  which  it  traverses  in  North  Carolina 
being  of  a  less  interesting  character.  It  is  in  this  State,  however, 
that  it  isfound  tobemostproductive;  and  here, consequendy,itis  most 
worked.  But  the  produce  of  this  auriferous  tract  has,  as  yet,  in  no 
place  been  discovered  to  be  sufficiently  abundant  to  lead  to  regular 
mining  operations  on  an  extensive  scale. 

The  neighbourhood  of  Raleigh,  the  capital  of  the  State,  which  is 
about  midway  between  Weldon  and  Wilmington,  is  very  beautiful. 
The  land  is  high,  and  swells,  on  all  hands,  into  graceful  undulations, 
covered  with  a  profusion  of  the  richest  foliage.  As  we  sped  along, 
the  railway  seemed  occasionally  to  be  lost,  for  a  while,  amid  per- 
fumed groves  and  deep  forest  glades,  from  which  it  would  suddenly 
emerge  upon  a  series  of  plantations,  to  dive  again  as  suddenly  into 
another  belt  of  undisturbed  and  exuberant  vegetation.  The  day 
w^as  bright  and  clear;  and  nothing  could  serve  to  give  a  more  plea- 
sing variety  to  our  journey  than  these  repeated  transitions  from 
wood  to  clearance,  from  shade  to  sunshine.  As  we  wound  our 
way  amid  the  stately  pillars  of  the  forest,  and  beneath  the  rich  green 
translucent  canopy  which  they  supported  overhead,  it  w^as  interest- 
ing to  watch  the  motions  of  the  numerous  birds,  which    sought 

*  The  Gold  Region  in  California  has  since  been  discovered, 


308  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

shelter  beneath  the  juicy  foliatre  from  tlie  midday  lieat.  Few  of 
them  had  any  thinor  like  a  sweet  note  in  their  little  throats;  but  their 
aaudy  plumage  glistened  again  and  again,  as  in  their  fluttering  to 
and  fro,  they  broke  tlirough  the  golden  bars  of  sunshine  which  had 
struggled  into  ihe  shade.  The  air,  too,  was  occasionally  laden  with 
the  delicious  perfume  of  the  magnolia  grandi-flora,  whose  deep  green 
leaf  and  large  sweUing  milk-white  flower  render  it  one  of  the  great- 
est ornaments  of  the  forest  in  these  latitudes. 

Raleigh  is  a  small  and  unimposing-looking  town  situated  near  a 
river  called  the  Neuse.  It  is  a  place  of  no  commercial  importance 
whatever.  The  chief  building  in  the  town  is  the  State  House,  in 
which  the  local  legislature  assembles  once  a  year  to  deliberate  upon 
the  afl^airsof  the  State.  It  is  a  substantial  granite  building,  of  no 
very  ambitious  dimensions,  but  with  a  profusion  of  pillars,  which 
add  much  to  the  lightness  and  elegance  of  its  appearance.  Much 
as  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  had  to  do  with  the  early  colonization  of  the 
South,  this  is  the  only  town  in  America,  that  I  know  of,  bearing  his 
name.  This  is  singular  in  a  country  where  they  are  so  fond  of  de- 
signating places  by  the  names  of  historic  characters.  North  Caro- 
lina set  a  generous  example  to  her  sister  States,  when  she  appended 
to  her  capital  a  name  so  identified  with  the  reality,  as  well  as  the 
romance,  of  early  American  colonization. 

Proceeding  southward  from  Raleigh,  the  country  rapidly  changes 
its  appearance  and  character.  The  distinctive  features  of  the  mid- 
dle district  soon  merge  into  the  monotonous  and  less  attractive  as- 
pect of  the  tide-water  region.  Your  way  is  now  towards  the  coast, 
and  you  do  not  proceed  far  ere  the  clear  and  lively  streams  become 
sluggish  and  muddy,  the  surface  of  the  country  becomes  flat  and 
uninteresting,  and  the  forest  shade,  so  enticing  in  the  uplands,  deep- 
ens into  interminable  gloom.  As  seen  from  an  elevated  position, 
commanding  an  extensive  range  of  it,  there  is  nothing  in  nature  of 
so  melancholy  an  aspect  as  this  enormous,  fertile,  yet  pestilentinl, 
region.  Extending  for  hundreds  of  miles  along  the  coast,  with  an 
average  depth  of  from  100  to  150  miles,  it  spreads  out  in  one  vast, 
gloomy,  and  monotonous  plain,  interposing  between  the  more  ele- 
vated districts  and  the  sea.  Where  it  is  not  so  marsliy  that  the 
land  is  literally  "drowned,"  it  is  generally  fertile  to  a  degree,  par- 
ticularly along  the  margin  of  the  rivers,  which  are  lined  with  plan- 
tations; from  the  poisonous  miasmas  of  which  the  whites  have  to 
fly  during  autumn  months.  Here  and  tliere  you  meet  with  sandy 
tracts,  which  are  in  some  cases  barren,  and  in  most  comparatively 
unproductive.  Rice  is  largely  cultivated  throughout  the  more 
marshy  portions  of  the  region;  wheat  and  Indian  corn  being  pro- 
duced in  abundance  in  its  drier  parts  towards  the  Potomac,  which 
give  way  to  cotton  as  you  approach  the  portions  of  it  extending  in  o 
the  Carolinas  and  Georgia.     The  pitch-pine  with  which  ilabou.ids, 


THE  WESTEHN  WORLD,  309 

und  which  attains  here  a  large  size,  adds  much  to  the  sombreness 
of  its  appearance,  whidi  becomes  more  and  more  striking  as  you 
approach  the  more  swampy  districts  of  the  coast.  Between  Chesa- 
peake Bay  and  Albemarle  Sound,  its  more  disagreeable  features^ 
culminate  to  a  hideous  point,  producing,  by  their  combination,  what 
is  so  generally  known  as  the  Dismal  Swamp.  Through  this  bale- 
ful region  runs  a  canal,  nearly  thirty  miles  in  length,  connecting  the 
two  arms  of  the  sea  just  mentioned.  Its  name  well  indicates  its 
character.  From  the  soft  spongy  ground  springs  a  dense  and  tangled 
underwood,  overtopped  by  a  heavy  and  luxuriairt  growth  of  juniper, 
Lypress,  cedar,  and  sometimes  oak  and  sycamore,  which  stand  at 
all  angles,  and  are  frequently  seen  propping  each  other  up,  so  pre- 
carious is  their  hold  of  the  marshy  soil.  During  the  day-time  the 
air  is  moist  and  relaxing;  at  night  it  is  laden  with  pestilential  va- 
pours, which  war  with  every  form  of  animal  life  but  that  of  the- 
venomous  reptile  and  the  bull-frog,  whose  discordant  croak  cease& 
not  night  or  day.  In  passing  through,  one  cannot  fail  to  be  struck 
with  the  quantity  of  decaying  timber  which  he  constandy  sees  around 
him;  some  prostrate,  and  melting,  as  it  were,  into  the  semi-liquid' 
earth;  the  rest  yet  standing  as  ghastly  warnings  to  the  still  vigo- 
rous trunks  around  them.  At  night  this  timber  emits  a  pale  phos- 
phorescent  light,  which,  with  the  fitful  and  cold  lustre  of  the  fire-fly^ 
only  serves  to  deepen  the  pervading  gloom.  Take  it  in  all  its  cha- 
racteristics, and  fancy  cannot  picture  to  itself  a  more  repulsive  or 
desolate  region.  Not  that  nature  is  here  without  power;  but  her 
powers  are  applied  to  hideous  production.  There  is  something? 
awful,  as  well  as  repulsive,  in  the  scene.  It  is  desolation  in  the  lap 
of  luxuriance — it  is  solitude  in  a  funeral  garb. 

There  are  many  other  tracts  along  the  coast,  from  the  Potomac  to 
the  Savannah,  of  which  the  Dismal  Swamp  is  but  a  specimen  and  a> 
type.  They  differ  from  the  tide-water  region  generally,  in  concen- 
trating in  themselves  all  its  disagreeable  features.  In  most  parts  of 
it  their  charaeteristics  are  to  be  met  with,  although  in  limited  com- 
bination and  diminished  intensity.  It  greatly  improves  on  approach- 
ing the  lower  falls  of  the  rivers  which  designate  the  boundary  be- 
tween it  and  the  middle  region.  This,  which  may  be  called  the 
upper  portion  of  the  sea-coast  region,  and  particularly  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  streams,  yields  in  fertility  to  no  other  portion  of  the  country,. 
It  is  generally  well  cleared,  but  with  much  forest  still  remaining  un- 
disturbed. Here,  durino-  the  liealthv  months,  residence  on  the  larger 
plantations  is  very  agreeable,  especially  when  a  large  circle  of  friends 
and  acquaintances,  as  is  frequently  the  case,  meet  upon  them  from 
different  and  distant  parts  of  the  country.  It  is  to  the  mere  travel- 
ler that  the  region  in  question  is  wholly  destitute  of  attractions ;  its 
flat,  dull,  sombre,  and  monotonous  aspect  becoming  inexpressibly 


310  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

wearisome  to  liiin  as  he  proceeds,  mastering  one  reach  of  it  only  to 
see  another  spreading  out,  as  it  were,  interminably  before  liim. 

AVihnington,  wliich  we  reached  in  the  evening,  is  a  small  town, 
built  on  the  east  bank  of  Cape  Fear  River,  about  twenty-five  miles 
from  the  Atlantic.     It  is  one  of  the  chief  seaports  of  the  State,  al- 
though vessels  of  more  than  300  tons  cannot  approach  it.     There 
is  no  other  sea-board  State  so  deficient  in  good  harbours  as  North 
Carolina.     Its  whole  line  of  coast  is  low  and  sandy,  the  mainland 
being  protected  from  the  Ocean  by  long  isolated  ridges  of  sand  and 
gravel,  separated  from  it  by  narrow  and  shallow  straits;  whilst,  in 
other  places,  long  and  low  sandy  peninsulas  run  for  many  miles 
parallel  to   the  coast.     It  is  but  at  few  points  that  the  coast  can  be 
safely  approached;  and  but  one  or  two  of  the  many  inlets  which 
separate  the  islands  from  the  mainland  and  from  each  other,  are 
practicable  to  vessels  of  large  burden.     Cape  Hatteras,  the  most 
dangerous  point  in  the  coasting  navigation  of  the  United  States,  is 
a  portion  of  the  coast  of  North  Carolina.     At  this  point,  the  coast, 
wliich,  from  the  southernmost  part  of  Georgia,  has  been  trending 
in  a  north-easterly  direction,suddenly  diverges  more  to  the  northward, 
in  which  line  it  continues,  until  it  is  again  diverted  to  the  north- 
east by  the  position  of  Long  Island  and  Connecticut.     Cape  Hat- 
teras thus  reaches  far  eastward  into  the   Atlantic,  greatly  influenc- 
ing the  direction  of  the  Gulf  stream.     To  double  it  is  at  all  times  a 
matter  of  some  hazard,  and  most  dangerous  when  an  easterly  or 
north-easterly  wind  brings  a  heavy  sea  in  conflict  with  the  stream. 
The  shoals,  too,  wliich  extend  far  beyond  it  into  the  sea,  add  greatly 
to  its  perils.     No  other  part  of  the  coast  of  the  United  Slates  could 
tell    such  dismal   tales  of  shipwreck  as  Cape  Hatteras.     Of  late 
years  it  has  been  the  scene  of  some  of  the  most  melancholy  and 
heart-rending  disasters.     Amongst  these  stand  fatally  prominent  the 
wrecks  of  the  steamers  "Home  "  and  "Pulaski,"  the  former  bound 
from  New  York  to  Charleston,  and  the  latter  from   Charleston  to 
New  York.     In  both  cases,  hundreds  of  human  beings  met  with 
an  untimely  fate. 

Amongst  the  few  saved  from  the  wreck  of  the  "Home,"  were  a 
lady  and  gentleman,  who  were  rescued  under  circumstances  of  a 
singular  character.  After  the  awful  confusion  of  the  catastrophe 
was  over,  they  both  found  themselves,  without  being  able  to  give  an 
account  of  how  they  got  there,  upon  a  small  and  rudely-constructed 
raft,  formed  of  a  few  planks  and  barrels.  A  heavy  sea  was  running 
at  the  time,  and  it  was  with  difliculty  that  they  retained  their  hold 
of  the  crazy  fabric,  whicli  was  their  only  safety.  For  the  greater 
part  of  two  days  and  two  nights  were  they  driven  about  in  this  pe- 
rilous state,  being  all  that  time  without  food  or  drink,  and  afraid  to 
change  their  positions,  lest  they  should  lose  their  hold,  or  disturb  the 
equilibrium  of  the  raft.     What  added  much  to  their  discomfort  as 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD.  i^ll 

Well  as  to  their  peril  was,  that  the  raft  was  so  small,  that  they  were 
coiistantlv^  immersed  in  several  inches  of  water,  even  when  the  sea 
was  not  breaking  over  them,  as  it  frequently  did.  At  length,  as 
they  were  approaching  the  third  day  of  their  fearful  trial,  exhausted 
with  cold  and  hunger,  and  almost  stupified  by  their  protracted  agony, 
their  raft  was  cast  ashore,  not  far  from  the  Cape;  and,  in  leaving  it, 
it  was  with  difficulty  that  they  escaped  being  lost  amid  the  surf. 
They  had  sufficient  strength  left  to  drag  themselves  to  the  nearest 
habitation,  where  all  was  done  to  restore  them  that  kindness  and 
hospitality  could  effect.  On  recovering,  they  began  to  observe 
each  other  more  attentively  than  before,  when  the  gentleman  found 
that  his  fellow-voyager  was  young,  pretty,  and  accomplished  ;  she 
at  the  same  time  discovering  in  him  all  that  youth  and  spirit  could 
do  to  make  a  man  attractive  in  the  eyes  of  the  sex.  It  was  but 
natural  that,  under  the  circumstances,  they  should  feel  a  deep  interest 
in  each  other;  and  it  was  not  long  ere  they  began  to  think,  that  if 
a  marriage  was  ever  devised  in  heaven,  theirs  had  been  settled  and 
arranged  there.  They  were  soon  convinced  that  nothing  should 
sunder  those  whom  Providence  had  so  singularly  thrown  together. 
They  were  afterwards  married,  but  not  until  the  lady's  period  of 
mourning  had  expired;  for  the  catastrophe  which  resulted  in  her 
becoming  a  bride,  had  also  made  her  an  orphan  and  an  heiress. 

Having  no  inducement  to  delay  at  Wilmington,  I  took  my  passage 
in  a  steamer  which  was  to  leave  that  evening  for  Charleston.  She 
was  a  large  and  handsome-looking  vessel,  and,  to  all  appearance, 
much  more  seaworthy  than  many  of  her  class  in  America.  Below 
the  maindeck  she  was  all  cabin ;  one  enormous  saloon,  superbly  de- 
corated, stretching  from  stem  to  stern.  Above  the  main  she  had  a 
promenade  deck,  extending  about  half  way  forw- ard,  the  ladies'  cabin 
being  between  the  two.  She  was  full  of  passengers,  many  of  whom 
were  sound  asleep  in  their  berths  ere  the  steamer  left  the  pier.  For 
my  own  part,  I  remained  for  some  hours  upon  deck,  watching  the 
dull  flat  shores  of  the  river,  the  faint  black  outline  of  which  it  w^as 
just  possible  to  distinguish  from  the  darkness  of  the  night,  until  we 
glided  into  the  open  sea,  w^hich  looked  like  a  mass  of  liquid  fire, 
every  wave,  even  to  the  far  horizon,  being  brilliantly  decorated  with 
a  phosphorescent  crest. 

The  wind  was  fresh,  with  a  lively  sea  running,  but,  coming  as  It 
did  several  points  from  the  north,  so  far  favoured  us,  that  by  early 
breakfast-time  next  morning  we  were  off  Charleston.  The  coast 
was  still  low,  sandy,  and  uninteresting,  being  screened  like  that  of 
North  Carolina,  as  well  as  that  of  Georgia  beyond,  by  long  insular 
ridges,  rising  but  a  few  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea.  Many  of 
these  islands,  particularly  off  the  coast  of  South  Carolina  and  Geor- 
gia, produce  the  finest  kind  of  American  cotton,  that  known  as 
the  Sea  Island  cotton,  and  commanding  a  much  higher  price,  both 


312  THE  WESTERN  WORLD, 

on  account  of  its  fineness  and  its  scarcity,  than  that  produced,  in 
greater  abundance  and  with  less  cost  and  labour,  in  the  uplands  of 
the  interior.  On  entering  the  harbour  we  had  to  cross  a  bar,  the 
passage  of  which  is  narrow,  and  can  only  be  effected  at  high  tide 
by  vessels  of  the  largest  class.  Many  see,  or  affect  to  see,  a  stri- 
king resemblance  between  the  situation  of  Charleston  and  that  of 
New  York.  For  my  own  part,  I  saw  less  of  that  resemblance 
than  I  did  of  the  data  on  which  it  is  sometimes  fancifully  built. 
You  enter  the  harbour  by  a  narrow  channel,  and  so  you  do  the 
magnificent  bay  of  New  York.  The  city  stands  upon  a  small 
projecting  tongue  of  land  running  southward  into  the  harbour,  as 
New  York  does  upon  Manhattan  Island,  somewhat  similarly  situa- 
ted. Nay,  more;  this  tongue  of  land  has  the  Cooper  River  on  its 
eastern,  and  the  Ashley  River  on  its  western  side;  its  southern- 
most point  being  laved  by  the  confluent  waters  of  the  two;  just  as 
New  York  is  flanked  on  one  side  by  the  arm  of  the  Sound,  known 
as  the  East  River,  and  on  the  other  by  the  Hudson.  In  addition 
to  this,  its  foreign  and  coasting  trades  are  concentrated  upon  the 
eastern  side  of  the  tow^n,  the  main  rendezvous  for  shipping  being 
on  the  Cooper  River,  as  the  chief  shipping  business  of  New  York 
is  confined  to  that  side  of  it  which  is  washed  by  the  East  River. 
Furtliermore,  there  are  islands  in  the  harbour,  some  of  which  are 
fortified,  and  others  not,  which  is  likewise  so  in  the  other  case ; 
whilst  its  entrance  is  well  flanked  with  fortifications,  as  the  Nar- 
rows are  defended  at  New  York.  Taking  the  ground-plan  of  the 
two  cities  and  their  respective  environs,  there  may  be  many  points 
of  similarity  between  them.  But  viewing  them  as  the  tourist 
views  them,  there  is  but  little  about  the  one  to  remind  him  of  the 
other;  unless  the  recollection  be  suggested  by  contrast,  instead  of 
by  resemblance.  About  Charleston,  every  thing  is  low,  level,  and 
uninteresting;  whilst  about  New  York  all  is  undulating,  bold,  grace- 
ful, and  infinitely  varied.  The  one  is  on  a  contracted  and  monoto- 
nous scale;  whilst  the  other  is  cast  in  an  expansive  mould,  and  is 
replete  with  striking  and  picturesque  effects.  Let  not  the  Charles- 
tonians  be  too  fond  of  comparing  small  things  with  great.  There 
are  many  cities  inferior,  both  in  appearance  and  position,  to  Charles- 
ton; but  it  can  only  suffer  by  comparison  with  the  great  emporium 
of  the  North. 


END  OF  VOL.  I. 


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BY   SAMUEL    BUTLER,    D.D., 

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CHEMISTRY  OF  T hTToTTsTa^O N S , 

SPRING,    SUMMER,   AUTUiMN,   AND   WINTER. 

AN    ESSAY,  PRINCIPALLY    CONCERNING    NAITTRAL    PHENOMENA,   AD.MITTING    OP 

INTERPRETATION  BY  CHEiHCAL  SCIENCE,  AND  ILLUSTRATING 

PASSAGES  OF  SCRIPTURE. 

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frosts,  each  have  their  peculiar  and  appropriate  phenomena.  And  those  who  have  hitherto  re- 
mained insensible  to  these  changes  and  unmoved  amid  such  remarkable,  and  often  startling  re- 
sujts,  will  lose  their  apathy  upon  reading  the  Chemistry  of  the  '  Four  Seasons,'  and  be  prepared  to 
enjoy  the  highest  intellectual  pleasures.  Conceived  in  a  happy  spirit,  and  written  wita  taste  and 
elegance,  the  essay  of  Mr.  Griffiths  cannot  fail  to  receive  the  admiration  of  cultivated  minds ;  and 
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with  the  editor  and  publishers  to  increase  its  popular  character,  thereby  adapting  it  to  the  lareer 
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additions  and  omissions.  The  volume  is  abundantly  illustrated  veith  figures  in  the  te.xt,  embracing 
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THE   COMPLETE   FLORIST. 

A.  SX^ITUi\.I<   OF  G^BDUXrilTG, 

CONTADnXG  PRACTICAL  INSTRUCTION  FOR  THE  MANAGEMENT  OF  GREENHOUSE 

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AND  TREES  MOST  WORTHY'  OF  CULTURE  L\  EACH 

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liANDRETITS  RURAL  REGISTER  AND  ALXVIANAC,  FOR  1848, 
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SECOND   EDITION,  REVISED,  CORRECTED,  AND   ENLARGED. 

BY    FRANCIS    HILLIARD, 

COUNSELLOR    AT   LAW. 

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I'^nglish  law.  It  embraces  all  that  portion  of  the  English  Law  of  Real 
Estate  which  has  any  applicability  in  this  country;  and  at  the  same  time  it 
embodies  the  statutory  provisions  and  adjudged  cases  of  all  the  States  upon 
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difierent  States,  as  will  be  seen  by  the  subjoined  extracts. 

"  The  work  before  us  supplies  this  deficiency  in  a  highly  satisfactory  manner.  It  is  beyond  all 
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lias  is  the  more  valuable  to  the  American  lawyer.  We  congratulate  the  author  upon  the  success- 
ful accomplishment  of  the  arduous  task  he  undertook,  in  reducing  the  vast  body  of  the  American 
Law  of  Real  Property  to '  portable  size,'  and  we  do  not  doubt  that  his  labours/will  be  duly  appre- 
ciated by  the  profession." — Law  Reporter,  Aug.,  1846. 

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literature.  It  embraces  all  that  p.art  of  Mr.  Cruise's  Digest  which  is  most  useful  to  American  law- 
yers. But  its  higher  value  is,  that  it  presents  in  a  concise,  but  dear  and  exact  form,  the  substance 
of  American  Law  on  the  same  subject.  1  knoije  no  work  that  xoe  possess,  ichose  practical  utility  is 
likely  to  be  so  extensively  ftU."  "  The  wonder  is,  that  the  author  has  been  able  to  bhng  so  great  a 
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Bar." 

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rence, and  do  not  doubt,  from  the  appearance  of  the  second,  that  it  is  greatly  improved." 

Professor  J.  H.  Townsend,  of  Yale  College,  says  :— 

"  I  have  been  acquainted  for  several  years  with  the  first  edition  of  Mr.  Hilliard's  Treatise,  and 
have  formed  a  very  favourable  opinion  of  it.  1  have  no  doubt  tlie  second  edition  will  be  found  even 
more  valuable  than  the  first,  and  I  shaU  be  happy  to  recommend  it  as  I  may  hive  opportunity.  I 
know  of  no  other  work  on  the  subject  of  Real  Estate,  so  comprehensive  an  J  so  well  adapted  to  the 
•tate  of  the  law  in  this  country." 


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COMPRISING 

ITS  RISE,  PROGRESS  AND  FINAL  ESTABLISHMENT. 

TO  WHICH  JS  PREFIXED.  WITH  A  VIEW  TO  THE  ELUCIDATION  OF  THE  MAIN  SUB- 
JECT. A  CONCISE  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  LEADING  D0CTRINT:S  OF  THE  COMMON 
LAW,  AND  OF  THE  COURSE  OF  PROCEDURE  IN  THE  COURTS  OF  COM- 
MON LAW.  WITH  REGARD  TO  CIVIL  RIGHTS ;  WITH  AN  ATTEMPT 
TO  1'RACE  THEM  TO  THEIR  SOURCES  ;  AND  IN  WHICH 
THE  VARIOUS    ALTERATIONS    MADE    BY   THE 
LEGISLATURE  DOWN  TO  THE  PRESENT 
DAY  ARE  NOTICED. 

BY    GEORGE    SPENCE,   ESQ., 

One  of  her  JIajesty  's  Counsel. 

IN     TWO     OCTAVO    VOLUMES. 

Volume  L,  embracingr  the  Principles,  is  now  reatly.  Volume  II.  is  rapidly  preparing  and  wiU 
appear  early  in  1848.  it  is  based  upon  tlie  work  of  Mr.  Maddock,  brought  down  to  the  present 
time,  and  embracmg  so  much  of  the  practice  as  counsel  are  called  on  to  advise  upon. 

.A.   XTEVT    I.iL'W    DICTIOM-.aR7, 

CONTAINING  EXPLANATIONS  OF  SUCH  TECHNICAL  TERMS  AND  PHRASES  AS  OCCUP 

IN  TILE  WORKS  OF  LEGAL  AUTHORS,    IN  THE  PRACTICE  OF  THE   COURTS, 

AND  IN  THE  PARLIAilENTARY  PROCEEDINGS  OF  THE  HOUSE  OF  LORDS 

AND   COMMONS,   TO   WHICH   IS   ADDED,  AN    OUTLINE   OF  AN 

ACTION  AT  LAW  AND  OF  A  SUIT  IN  EQUITY. 

BY    HENRY    JAIVIES    EOLTHOUSE,  ESQ., 

Of  the  Inner  Temple,  Special  Pleader. 

EDITED    FROM    THE    SECOND    AND    ENLARGED    LONDON    EDITION, 

WITH   NUMEROUS   ADDITIONS, 

BY    HENRY    PENINGTON, 

Of  the  Pluladelphia  Bar. 

In  one  large  volume,  royal  12mo.,  of  about  500  pages,  double  columns,  handsomely 

bound  in  law  sheep. 

"  This  is  a  considerable  improvement  upon  the  former  editions,  being  bound  with  the  usual  la\v 
bindins:,  and  the  general  execution  admirable — the  paper  excellent,  and  the  printing  clear  and 
beautiful.  Its  peculiar  usefulness,  however,  consists  in  the  valuable  additions  above  referred  to, 
being  intelligible  and  well  de\'ised  definitions  of  such  phrases  and  technicalities  as  are  pecuhar  to 
the  practice  m  the  Courts  of  this  country. — While,  therefore,  vi'e  recommend  it  especially  to  the 
Ktudents  of  lav?-,  as  a  safe  guide  through  the  intricacies  of  their  study,  it  will  ueverlheless  be  found 
a  valuable  acquisition  to  tiie  library  of  the  practitioner  himself." — ALex.  Gazelle. 

"  This  work  is  intended  rather  for  the  general  student,  than  as  a  substitute  for  many  abridgments, 
dige.'Jts,  and  dictionaries  in  use  by  the  professional  man.  Its  object  principally  is  to  impress  accu- 
rately and  distinctly  upou  the  mind  the  meaning  of  the  technical  terms  of  the  law.  and  as  such 
ran  hardly  fail  to  be  geueraliy  useful.  There  is  much  curious  information  to  be  fomid  in  it  in  re- 
gard to  the  peculiarities  of  the  ancient  Sasou  law.  The  additions  of  the  American  edition  give 
mcreased  value  to  the  work,  and  evince  much  accuracy  aud  care." — Pennsylvania  Law  JournaL 

TATTLOa'S    ISEDICAIi    JXjaiSPatTDENCII. 
A  PRACTICAL  TREATISE  ON  MEDICAL  JURISPRUDENCE. 

BY   ALFRED  S.    TAYLOR, 

Lecturer  on  Medical  Jurisprudence  and  Chemistry  at  Guy's  Hospital,  London. 

With  numerous  Notes  and  Additions,  and  References  to  American  Law, 

BY  R.   E.    GRIFFITH,  M.D. 
In  one  volume,  octavo,  neat  law  sheep. 

TA"2"IiOR'S    lyEANITAL    OP    TOXICOLOGTr. 

IN    ONE    NEAT    OCTAVO    VOLUME. 

A  NEW  WOBK,  KOW  EEADY. 

TRAZIiZi'S 

OUTLINES  OF  A  COURSE  OF  LECTURES  ON  MEDICAL  JURISPRUDENCE. 

IN   ONB  SMALL   OCTAVO    VOLUME. 


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E  A  S  T'S     REPORTS. 


refohts  or  cases 

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BY    ED"WARD    HYDE    EAST,   ESQ., 
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EDITED,     WITH    NOTES    AND     REFERENCES, 

BY    G.   M.    WHARTON,  ESQ., 
Of  the  Philadelphia  Bar. 

In  eight  large  royal  octavo  volumes,  bound  in  best  law  sheep,  raised  bands  and  double 
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In  this  edition  of  East,  the  sixteen  volumes  of  the  former  edition  have 
been  compressed  into  eight — two  volumes  in  one  throughout — but  nothing 
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together  with  the  improvement  in  appearance,  will,  it  is  trusted,  procure  for 
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A  NEW  WORK  ON  COURTS-IVIARTIAL 


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AND    THE 

PRACTICE   OF    COURTS. MARTIAL, 

WITH  SUGGESTIONS  FOR  THEIR  IMPROVEMENT. 
BY   JOHN    O'BRIEN, 

LIEUTENANT    UNITED    STATES    ARTILLERY. 

In  one  octavo  volume,  extra  cloth,  or  law  sheep. 

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CAMPBELL'S   LORD   CHANCELLORS. 


UVES  OF  TTIE  LORD  CHANCELLORS  AND  KEEPERS  OP 
THE  GREAT  SEAL  OE  ENGLAND, 

FTIOM  THE   EARLIEST  TIMES  TO   THE   KEIGN    OF   KING   GEORGE   IV., 

BY  JOHN  LORD  CAMPBELL,  A.M.,  F.R.S.E. 

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YOUATT  AND   SKINNEE'S 

STANDARD  WORK  ON  THE  HORSE. 


THE   HOUSE. 

BY    WILLIAM    YOUATT. 

A   NEW   EDITION,   WITH   NDMEROUS   ILLUSTRATIONS. 

TOGETHER    WITH   A 

GENBHAX.  HISTORY  OF  THE  HORSE; 

A  DISSERTATION   ON 

THE  AMERICAN  TROTTING  HORSE; 

HOW    TRAINED    AND    JOCKEYED. 

AN  ACCOUNT  OF  HIS  REMARKABLE  PERFORMANCES; 

AND 

AIT  ESSAV  ON  THE  ASS  AND  THE  N.JJIsE^ 

BY   J.  S.  SKINNER, 

Assistant  Post-Master-General,  and  Editor  of  the  Turf  Re^ster.    - 

This  edition  of  Youatt's  well-known  and  standard  work  on  the  Manage- 
ment, Diseases,  and  Treatment  of  the  Horse,  has  already  obtained  such  a 
wide  circulation  throughout  the  country,  that  the  Publishers  need  say  no- 
thing to  attract  to  it  the  attention  and  confidence  of  all  who  keep  Horses  or 
are  interested  in  their  improvement. 

"  In  introducing  this  very  neat  edition  of  Yonatt's  well-known  book,  on '  The  Horse,'  to  our 
readers,  it  is  not  necessary,  even  if  we  had  time,  to  say  anything  to  convince  them  of  its  worth ;  it 
has  been  highly  spoken  of,  by  those  most  capable  of  appreciating  its  merits,  and  its  appearance 
under  the  patronage  of  the  'Society  for  the  DiiTusion  of  Useful  Knowledge,'  with  Lord  Brougham 
at  its  head,  aSords  a  full  guaranty  for  its  high  character.  The  book  is  a  very  valuable  one,  and  we 
endorse  the  recommendation  of  the  editor,  that  every  man  who  owns  the  '  hair  of  a  horse,'  should 
have  it  at  his  elbow,  to  be  consulted  like  a  family  physician, '  for  mitigating  the  disorders,  and  pro- 
longing the  life  of  the  most  interesting  and  useful  of  aU  domestic  animals.' " — Farmer's  Cabinet. 

"  This  celebrated  work  has  been  completely  revised,  and  much  of  it  almost  entirely  re-written 
by  its  able  author,  who,  from  bemg  a  practical  veterinary  sui^eon,  and  withal  a  great  lover  and 
excellent  judge  of  the  animal,  is  particularly  well  qualified  to  write  the  history  of  the  noblest  of 
quadrupeds.  Messrs.  Lea  and  Blanchard  of  Philadelphia  have  republished  the  above  work,  omitting 
a  few  of  the  first  pages,  and  have  supphed  their  place  %vith  matter  quite  as  valuable,  and  perhaps 
more  interesting  to  the  reader  in  this  country  ;  it  being  nearly  100  p;iges  of  a  general  history  of  the 
horse,  a  dissertation  on  the  American  trottins:  horse,  how  trained  and  jockeyed,  an  account  of  hia 
remarkable  performances,  and  an  essay  on  the  Ass  and  Mule,  by  J.  S.  Skinner,  Esq.,  Assistant  Post- 
jiaster-General,  and  late  editor  of  the  Turf  Register  and  American  Farmer.  Mr.  Skinner  is  one 
of  our  most  pleasing  writers,  and  has  been  familiar  with  the  subject  of  the  horse  fixjm  childhood, 
and  we  need  not  add  that  he  has  acquitted  himself  well  of  the  task.  He  also  takes  up  the  import- 
ant subject,  to  the  American  breeder,  of  the  Ass,  and  the  JIule.  This  he  treats  at  length  and  con 
amore.  The  Philadelphia  edition  of  the  Horse  is  a  handsome  octavo,  with  numeroas  wood -cuts."— 
American  Agriadturist. 


LEA  AND  BLANCHARD'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


YOUATT   ON  THE   PIG. 


THE    PIG; 

A  TREATISE  ON  THE  BREEDS,  MANAGExMENT,  FEEDING, 
AND  MEDICAL  TREATxMENT  OF  SWINE, 

WITH  DIRECTIONS  FOR  SALTIXG  PORK,  AND  CURING  RACON  AND  HAMS. 

BY    WILLIAM    YOUATT,    V.S. 

Author  of  "  The  Horse,"  "  The  Dog,"  "  Cattle,"  "  Sheep,"  &.C.,  <tc. 

nXUSTRATED  WITH  ESGRAVCiGS  DRAWIT    FSOM   UTB  BT  WILLIAM  HABVET. 

In  one  handsome  duodecimo  volume,  extra  cloth,  or  in  neat  paper  cover,  price  50  cents. 
This  work,  on  a  subject  comparatively  neglected,  must  prove  of  much  use  to  farmers,  especiaUr 
in  liiis  country,  where  the  Pig  is  an  animal  of  more  importance  than  elsewhere.  No  work  has 
hitherto  appeared  treating  fully  of  the  various  breeds  of  swine,  their  diseases  and  cure,  breeding, 
fettening,  ice.,  and  the  preparation  of  bacon,  salt  pork,  hams,  6u:.,  while  the  name  of  the  author  of 
♦*  The  Horse,"  "  The  Cattle  Doctor,"  <tc.,  is  sufficient  authority  for  all  he  may  state.  To  render  it 
more  accessible  to  those  whom  it  particularly  interests,  the  publishers  have  prepared  copies  in 
neat  illustrated  paper  covers,  suitable  for  transmission  by  mail ;  and  which  will  be  sent  through 
the  post-office  on  the  receipt  of  fifty  cents,  free  of  postage. 

CLATER  AND  YOUATT'S   CATTLE    DOCTOR. 


EVERY  MAN  HIS  OWN  CATTLE  DOCTOR: 

CON'TAIMXG    THE  CAUSES,   SYMPTOMS   AND    TREATMENT  OF  ALL 

DISEASES  INCIDENT  TO  OXEN,  SHEEP  AND  SWINE; 

AND   A   SKETCH    OF  THE 

ANATOMY  AND  PHYSIOLOGY  OF  NEAT  CATTLE. 

BY  FRANCIS  CLATER. 

EDITED,    REVISED    AKD    ALMOST    RE- WRITTEN,    BT 

WILLIAM  YOUATT,  AUTHOR  OF  "THE  HORSE." 

"WITH    NUMEROUS   ADDITIONS, 

EMBRACING  AN  ESSAY  ON  THE  USE  OF  OXEST  AND  THE  DIPROVEMENT  IN  THE 

BREED  OF  SHEEP, 
BY  J.  S.  SKINNER. 
TTITH    NUMEROUS    CUTS    AND    ILLUSTRATIONS. 
In  one  12mo.  volume,  cloth. 
"  As  its  title  would  import,  it  is  a  most  valuable  work,  and  should  be  in  the  hands  of  every  Ame- 
rican farmer;  and  we  feel  proud  in  saj-ing,  that  the  value  of  the  work  has  been  greatly  enhanced 
oy  the  contributions  of  Mr.  Skinner.    Clater  and  Youatt  are  names  treasured  by  the  farming  com- 
munities of  Europe  as  household-gods  ;  nor  does  that  of  Skinner  deserve  to  be  less  esteemed  in 
America."— .4m£rican  Farmer. 


CLATER'S   FARRIER. 


EVERY  MAN  HIS  OWN  FARRIER: 

CONTAINING  THE  CAUSES,  SY.MPTOMS,  AND  MOST  APPROVED  METHODS  OF  CURB 

OF  THE  DISEASES  OF  HORSES. 

BT    TB.ANC1S    CIiATER, 

Author  of  "  Ever}'  Man  Ins  own  Cattle  Doctor," 

AND   HIS    SON,    JOHN    CLATER. 

FIRST  AMERICAN  FROM  THE  TW-ENTY-EIGHTH  LONDON  EDITION. 

WITH     NOTES     AND     ADDITIO.VS, 

BT    J.    S.    SKZiriTEB. 

In  oiiti  12ino.  volume,  cloth. 


LEA  AND  BLANCIIARD'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


HAWKER  AND  PORTER  ON   SHOOTING. 

INSTRUCTIONS  TO  YOUNG  SPORTSMEN 

IN  ALL  THAT  RELATES  TO  GUNS  AND  SHOOTING. 
BY    lilET^T.   COL.  P.   HA"WKER, 

FKOM    THE    E>'L.4^GED    AJTD    IMFRO%'ED    SINTH    LONDON    EDITION, 

TO  WHICH  IS  ADDED  THE  HTXTING  AND  SHOOTING  OF  NORTH  AMERICA.  WITH 

DESCRIPTIONS  OF  ANIMALS  AND  BIRDS,  CAREFULLY  COLLATED 

FROM  AUTHENTIC  SOURCES. 

BY  W.  T.  PORTER,   ESQ,. 

EDITOK  OF  THE  N.  Y.  SPIRIT  OF  THE  TLMES. 

In  one  large  octavo  volume,  rich  extra  cloih,  with  numerous  Illustrationa. 

■  Here  is  a  book,  a  hand-book,  or  rather  a  text-book— one  that  contains  the  whole  routine  of  the 
science.  It  is  the  Pnmer,  the  Lexicon,  and  the  Homer.  Ever)'thiiiK  is  here,  from  ihe  minutest 
portion  of  a  gnn-lock,  to  a  dead  Bofelo.  The  sportsman  who  reads  this  book  understandinely.  may 
pass  an  examination.  He  will  know  the  science,  and  may  eive  advice  to  others.  Ererv  sportsnian, 
and  sportsmen  are  plentiful,  should  own  this  work.  It  should  be  a  "  vade  mecum."'  He  should 
\ie  examined  on  its  contents,  and  estimated,  by  his  abilities  to  answer.  We  have  not  been  without 
treati.<;es  on  the  art,  but  hitherto  they  have  not  descended  into  all  the  minutis  of  equipments  and 
qualifications  to  proceed  to  the  completion.  This  work  supplies  deficiencies,  and  completes  the 
sponsman's  library." — U.  S.  Gazette. 

"  No  man  in  the  country  that  we  wot  of  is  so  well  calculated  as  our  friend  of  the  '  Spirit'  for  the 
task  he  has  undertaJcen.  and  the  result  of  liis  labours  has  been  that  he  has  turned  out  a  work  which 
should  be  in  the  haiids  of  every  man  in  the  land  who  ovms  a  double-barrelled  gnn." — N.  O.  Picayune. 

"  A  volume  splendidly  printed  and  bound,  and  embellished  T^ith  numerous  beautiful  engravinffs, 
which  will  doubtless  be  in  exeat  demand.  No  sportsman,  indeed,  oui?ht  to  be  without  it,  while  the 
general  reader  will  find  in  its  pages  a  fund  of  curious  and  useful  information. " — Richmond  Whig. 

YOU  ATT    ON^THE    uToTGr 


BY    WILLIAM    Y  O  U  A  T  T, 

iuthor  of  "  The  Horse,"'  <5x. 
WITH    NUMEROUS    AND    BEAUTIFUL    ILLUSTRATIONS. 
EDITED   BY  E.  J.  LEWIS,  M.  D.  &c.  &c. 
In  one  beautifully  printed  volume,  crown  octavo. 
LIST    OF   PLATES. 
Head  of  Bloodhound— Ancient  Greyhounds — The  Thibet  Dos- The  Din^,  or  New  Holland  Coe— 
The  Danish  or  Dalmatian  D05 — The  Hare  Indian  Dog — The  Grevhound — The  Grecian  Grevhound 
— Blenheims  and  Cockers— The  W'ater  Spaniel — The  Poodle — The  Alpine  Spaniel  or  Bernardine 
Dog — The  Ne-«-foundland  Doe — The  Esquimaux  Dog — The  Eneiish  Sheep  Dog — The  Scotch  Sheep 
Doe— The  Beaele — The  Harrier — The  Foxhound — Plan  of  Goodwood  Kennel — The  Southern 
Hound— The  Setter— The  Pointer— The  Bali  Dog— The  Mastiff— The  Temer— Skeleton  of  the 
Dog — Teeth  of  the  Dog  at  seven  different  ages. 

"  Mr.  Youatt's  work  is  invaluable  to  the  student  of  canine  history;  it  is  full  of  entertaining  ani 
instructive  maner  for  the  general  reader.  To  the  sportsman  it  commends  itself  by  the  large  amount 
of  useful  information  in  reference  to  his  peculiar  pursuits  which  it  embodies — information  which 
he  cannot  find  elsewhere  in  so  convenient  and  accessible  a  form,  and  with  so  reliable  an  authority 
to  entitle  it  to  his  consideration.  Tiie  modest  preface  which  Dr.  Lewis  has  made  to  the  American 
edition  of  this  work  scarcely  does  justice  to  the  additional  value  he  has  imparted  to  it ;  and  the 
pubhshers  are  entitled  to  great  credit  fur  the  handsome  manner  in  which  they  have  got  it  up." — 
North  AjncTtcan.  ■ 

TBI!    SFOnTSZa.A.M''S    IiZBH^Rir, 

OR  HINTS  ON  HUNTERS,  HUNTDJG.  HOL'NDS,  SHOOTING,  GAME,  DOGS,  GUNS. 

FISHING,  COURSING.  <tc.,  ic. 

BY   JOHN  MILLS,   ESQ,,  * 

Author  of  "  The  Old  English  Gentleman,"  Sec. 

In  one  well  printed  royal  duodecimo  volume,  eitra  cloth. 

stzlb£s  t.a.z.k^m'd  t.a.b£z:  taZiK, 

OR  SPECTACLES  FOR  FOUNG  SPORTSMEN. 

BY    HARRY    HIEOVER. 

In  one  very  neat  duodecimo  volume,  extra  cloth. 

"  These  lively  sketches  answer  to  their  title  very  welL  \\"lierever  Nimrod  is  welcome,  there 
should  be  cordial  greeting  for  Harry  Hieover.  His  book  is  a  very  clever  one,  and  contains  many 
mstructive  hints,  as  well  as  much  li^ht-hearted  reading." — Exammer. 

THE    DOG   .A.N'D    THE    SFORTS2yi,Air, 

EMBRACLNG  THE  USES,  BREEDING,  TRAINING,  I  -.  ETC.,  OF  DOGS,  AND  AN 

ACCOUNT  OF  TKP  DIFFERENT  KINDS  OF  G  TH  THEIR  HABITS. 

Also,  Hints  to  Shooters^  with  various  useful  Recipes^  &c«)  d^c* 

BY   J.   S.  SKINNER. 

With  Plates.    In  one  rerj-  neat  12mo.  rolume,  sxtra  cloth. 


LEA  AND  BLANCHARD'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

FRANCATELLI'S  MODERN  FRENCH  COOKERY. 

THE    MODERN    COOK, 

A  PRACTICAL  GUIDE  TO  THE  CULINARY  ART,  IN  ALL  ITS  BRANCHES,  ADAPTED  AS 

WELL  FOR  THE  LARGEST  ESTABLISHMENTS  AS  FOR  THE  USE 

OF  PRIVATE  FAMILIES. 

BY  CHARLES  ELME  FRANCATELLI, 

Pupil  of  the  celebrated  Careme,  and  late  Maitre  D'Hotel  and  Chief  Cook  to  her  Majesty  the  Queen. 

In  one  large  octavo  volume,  extra  cloth,  with  numerous  illustrations. 

"It  appears  to  be  the  book  of  books  on  cookery,  being  a  most  comprehensive  treatise  on  that  art 
preservative  and  conservative.  The  work  comprises,  in  one  large  and  elegant  octavo  volume,  1447 
recipes  for  cooking  dishes  and  desserts,  with  numerous  illustrations ;  also  bills  of  fare  and  direc- 
tions for  dinners  for  every  month  in  the  year,  for  companies  of  six  persons  to  twenty-eight. — NaL 
Jntelligcncer. 

"  The  ladies  who  read  our  JIagazine,  will  thank  us  for  calling  attention  to  this  great  work  on  the 
noble  science  of  cooking,  in  which  everybody,  who  has  any  taste,  feels  a  deep  and  abiding  interest. 
Francatelli  is  the  Plato,  the  Shakspeare,  or  the  Napoleon;  of  his  department;  or  perhaps  the  La 
Place,  for  his  performance  beara  the  same  relation  to  ordinary  cook  books  that  the  ^Iecanique 
Celeste  does  to  DaboU's  Arithmetic.  It  is  a  large  octavo,  profusely  illustrated,  and  contains  every- 
thing on  the  philosophy  of  making  dinners,  suppers,  etc.,  that  is  worth  knowing. — Graham's  Magazine. 

¥iisTcTo¥^ 

MODHHir  COOKER'Sr  J.N  A-J^Jj  ITS  BRiklTCHES, 

REDUCED  TO  A  SYSTEM  OF  EASY  PRACTICE.  FOR  THE  USE  OF  PRIVATE  FAMILIES. 

IN  A  SERIES  OF  PRACTICAL  RECEIPTS,  ALL  OF  WHICH  ARE  GIVEN 

WITH  THE  MOST  RUNUTE  EXACTNESS. 

BY    f]IiIZA    ACTON. 

WITH   NUMEROUS   WOOD- CUT   ILLUSTRATIONS. 
TO  WHICH  IS  ADDED,  A  TABLE  OF  WEIGHTS  AND  MEASURES. 

THE  WHOLE  REVISED  AND  PREPARED  FOR  AMERICAN  HOUSEKEEPERS. 

BY  MRS.   SARAH  J.   HALE. 

From  the  Second  London  Edition.    In  one  large  12mo.  volume. 

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OF  THE  FRANKLIN  HOUSE. 

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THERE   ARE    ALREADY    PUBLISHED, 
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2.-0N  THE  CONNEXION  BETWEEN  Pm^SIOLOGY  AND  INTELLECTUAL  SCIENCE 
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CHRIST. 
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OF  GRACE  JIDCCCXLV. 
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THE  WORKS  OF  DE  CANDOLLE,  LINDLEY,  &c. 
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